Felicity's Fury and Oliver's Green Notebook
by quart1146
Summary: Felicity has left Oliver Queen for lying to her and moved out. Oliver has tried every thing to make it up to her, and he finally gives her his journal to try to reach her and prove to her that he does trust her. This is, of course, an AU story line. CW owns the characters, I own the content of the story.
1. Chapter 1

Alright all this one is a short story. I read somewhere that Oliver's notebook would make Felicity forgive his lie so here goes. I hope you enjoy. I look forward to your reviews. Hold on all, this will be a great ride.

#####OQ#####

"Oliver, man, stop hitting the dummy, your hands are bleeding now. Oliver, can you HEAR ME? Listen to me," John yelled at him.

"I don't care anymore." He punched the dummy harder, aggressively, his knuckles a mass of bruises and bleeding freely as he completely embraced the pain, reached for the pain.

"STOP, you're destroying your hands." John reached to touch him, and he jerked himself back and away, gasping deeply, his fists up in a clear fight stance, as he took a swing at the man, at his friend, roaring the words, "Don't touch me. Don't you dare touch me." And he swung again.

Dig ducked and evaded his punches while stepping swiftly back and as he held both hands palms up at him.

"Easy! Throttle back, Oliver. Rein in, man. Look around. See the lair. It's John. Calm down."

His breath came in ragged gasps, sweat poured off of him in buckets, and he realized he didn't know how long he'd been punching the dummy.

Dig said quietly, "Here, let me take a look at your hands, at least let me wrap them up. You're bleeding everywhere. What the hell are you doing punching the dummy like that without wrapping your hands up?"

"I don't care. My hands will be fine. Leave me alone, John. I don't want them wrapped. I want them to hurt." And he turned and attacked the bag again leaving blood stains with each punch.

"Oliver, you're losing it. I want you to take a step back right now and look at yourself. You're standing here bleeding. Look at the blood on the dummy. Take a real look at yourself, at what you're doing to yourself. You need to rein the rage in."

"No, I can't. I've already lost it, lost her. It doesn't matter anymore. I'm leaving, John, tomorrow. I'm done. She wants me gone. And I'm listening." With a vengeance, he laid into the dummy again as the pain fed the rage in him.

"Oliver! STOP! You're out of control. Get control. You're destroying your hands. You have to STOP, and I mean now."

"I don't care." But he forced himself to close his eyes for an instant, forced himself to stop hitting the dummy, as his body shook and trembled.

When he opened his eyes, John stood before him, his massive arms crossed in front of his broad chest, with an eyebrow arched before he said, "Can we talk about this? You're leaving? Oh, now that's a good idea. Run from your problems, that'll win Felicity over."

"There's no winning her over. John, it's been six weeks. We've buried Laurel, and I've killed Merlin for her, just as she asked me to, and Hive's scattered to the wind and gone. The mission's over and now that we don't have the mission, she won't even attempt to talk to me. She informed me today that we've nothing more to discuss, right before she called security and had me escorted out of the building, out of what used to be my company, out of what started as my father's company. Now, she's told me repeatedly to leave, and I'm done. I'm going."

He couldn't stop himself, and he attacked the dummy again, hitting it over and over, harder and harder, again and again, the blood from his hands staining the cloth red as he welcomed the pain.

"Oliver, think about your hands. You're trashing your hands. You have to STOP! And you just need to give her a little more time."

Grabbing the dummy, he held on tightly, trying to stop hitting. "Time's not helping. She's cut me off cold. She won't take my calls, and won't read my texts. Not only that, she's got an automatic reply now that says some unkind words if I e-mail her. I've tried to write her, and she ripped my letter up. She didn't even read it but threw it in the trash in front of me, before she turned and walked away. She hates me."

"I heard about the food you cooked," John said softly.

"Yeah, at least she gave it to Curtis to take home, since she refused to eat a bite of it and told me the next time I graced her office, she'd have security remove me, and she made good on her threat today. She had me escorted out."

"Listen, you know Felicity's angry with you. You hurt her deeply, and she's just lashing out. You need to wait her out, Oliver. Give her a little more time."

"I'm done waiting. No more waiting, John. I'm going crazy here. Today she not just threw my flowers back at me, but she chunked the fern I gave her months ago at my head." He returned to punching with gusto, not caring that he left his blood on the training dummy with each punch, not caring he could be breaking bone, then something in his left hand popped, and he clutched the dummy again, trying to make himself stop.

"I saw the poor plant sitting in the corner over there."

"Yeah, you think you could take it after I leave?"

"I'm not much of a plant person."

"Then let it die."

"Bitter today are you?"

He released the dummy and gave it one last jab as he looked down at his bleeding hands, knowing he had to stop or risk permanent damage, but that didn't mean the pain didn't feel good, that didn't mean he didn't want to keep going and going and keep hitting the dummy.

"She's told me repeatedly that we're," he swallowed hard, then inhaled sharply before he said the words, "over, that she can't do this anymore, can't do us. She doesn't want me anymore, John. And sometimes it's time to stop trying and that's what I'm doing. I've made a decision, and I'm going to move on."

John scrubbed his face with his hands and said in a sharp tone, "You two are making me crazy, Oliver. She's still livid and mad as hell at you, and you're clearly running in self-destruct mode right now, which isn't helping."

"I'm not."

"You are and I'm worried about you. You look like hell. When's the last time you slept? Or how about the last time you ate? Why don't you come home with me? Lyla cooked tonight. You can play with Sara. She's a real joy right now."

He walked over and picked up a bottle of water off the desk, uncapping it, he chugged it down, then said softly, "I know Sara is and thanks for the offer, but no thanks. And don't worry about me, my body can go a long time without food but only about three days without water. I'm still hydrating, which means I'll be fine. I'll eat later."

"I don't suppose you'd like to tell me how you know that? Or should I just guess the life boat or the island?"

"Experience."

"See that answer right there, is what infuriates her and me about you." Dig pointed a finger at him. "You won't share the past with her or with me. You side step it, then you say something like you just did. That's one reason she's angry with you. The fact you don't trust either one of us enough to tell us the truth, and that's why you're going to lose her."

"Have lost her is the correct tense. And there's no future tense for us, not anymore. It's completely past tense. I've already lost her." Oh how his heart ached with the words and his bleeding hands fisted again, but he forced himself to say, "Hey, but I'm glad you stopped by, since it saves me a trip. I needed to tell you I'm leaving town, and I wanted to say goodbye. You've been a true friend to me, and I'll always be thankful for that."

"Seriously? You're leaving? Now? You can't be mean that? You're just going to give up? If you leave then your relationship with her will be over. You'll really lose her."

"I've already lost her." He shut his eyes for an instant as his chest ached. "I can't stay here anymore. I did the watch her and don't touch her thing for about three years, and I'm not watching her move on this time. I can't. I'll hurt the next man that touches her. I'm leaving this place."

John narrowed his eyes at him. "And just where would you go? Back to the island?"

He ducked his head. Looking down at his bleeding hands, he flexed his aching fingers. Wincing, he turned and walked toward the medical bay with the words, "No, I can't go back there. She's been there more than once. I'm thinking more like Russia and then Africa. I've got skills people could use. I could still make a difference."

Dig followed him. "You're telling me you're going to become a mercenary? Get paid to kill people. No way could you do that."

"I don't care if they pay me. I don't need much. I'm low maintenance. And, I'm thinking fighting against the people doing the genocide. But I'll need money, so first I'll go back to the fight clubs in Russia. I'm still Bratva." Carefully, he clinched his teeth as he ran cold water over hands, embracing the pain that tormented him, while the pain felt good all at the same time.

"Fight clubs? When did you do fight clubs?" John leaned against the sink beside him, and he refused to meet his eyes, instead watching the blood run red down the drain. As the minutes lengthen, John said, "AND?"

"Alright, about the third year after the shipwreck, I fought. Trust me there's a lot of gambling money underground. I would win. It'd only take a few fights, and I'd be set for months."

"You've seriously thought about this haven't you?" John breathed out sharply then ask with a frown, "Are these fights to the death, Oliver? They are aren't they? I can tell by your face. You're talking about illegal bare knuckles fighting aren't you? Jesus, you're toughening up your hands."

He ducked his head, knowing John was right. Carefully washing his aching hands, he embraced the pain as he watched the red water flow down the drain, and the memories of fights and death washed over him.

"I'm right aren't I? Answer me, Oliver. You're talking about going back into the darkness, aren't you?"

"I belong in the dark and yes."

"Man, listen to yourself? Yes, they're fights to the death or yes, their bare knuckled? Why don't you just say I'm hunting someone to beat me to death, and if that doesn't work, then would you please put a bullet in my head? That's your plan isn't it? Man, think about what you're doing. You're making plans to die."

"Well, maybe, I want to die!" He spat the words at him, at his friend, a man he knew had his best interests at heart. "Get it. I took your advice. I reached for her, and for an instant, I got to be happy. I got to dream. I got to plan for a future."

"You could still have a future. Oliver, use your brain and think."

"No, not anymore. What I have now are memories. For little while, I had your life, John, a soul mate, a home, a happy place to go to at night, and maybe, someday, we could've had a child together."

"You still could."

"No. I don't get kids. I've accepted it. Look at my first son. Even though I found him, to keep him safe, I sent him away. Jesus, my own mother hid from him from me, paid his mother to hide from me. She knew I didn't need a child."

"Oliver, that was not your fault."

"I know but what matters is now is as normal, I hurt her. This breakup is my fault caused by my own stupid choices, and as normal my world's gone, burned to ashes, again." He flexed his fingers and considered attacking the dummy again after he applied the bandages.

"I know that." John said quietly. "But if you would just give her some more time. I know the two of you can fix this. Please, give her a few more days. Let me try to talk to her."

"NO, don't you dare talk to her. Do you think she's going to take me back just because I'm leaving when she's told me repeatedly to go and leave her alone. I don't think so. Don't you dare call her."

"She doesn't mean it." Dig said quietly.

Searching through a drawer, he hunted for something to put on his busted hands. "Yes, she does, and I'm doing nothing but hurting her by staying. I see it in her face whenever I try to talk to her. I want her to be happy, to move on. If I leave then she can, and stop worrying, John, I'll survive. I'll do what has to be done. I always do. But what I won't do is stay here and watch her move on. I can't do it. And things will get better if I go. She'll be fine if I go."

"That's just about what you said before Ra's put a sword through you and kicked you off a mountain. You saw how well that worked out for you."

He reached for a tube of antibiotic salve . "That's different."

Then painfully, he applied salve to his busted and bruised flesh.

"How? You're still trying to commit suicide."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but no, I'm just going away."

"Look, I understand you're losing it. When Lyla and I got divorced, I felt such raw pain that I returned to Afghanistan on a third tour, and, yeah, I know some days I became reckless. I've been there, done that. But, she's been angry with you before. You need to wait her out. If you hang, she'll come around."

"She's never been this mad before. And I can't keep doing this. I mean it. I'm gone. How many times am I supposed to let her kick me until I get the picture that we're over? I've accepted she isn't going to forgive me this time. And it's time to let go."

He reached for the gauze and Dig said, "At least let me help you wrap up your hands."

"Thanks, but no, I need the practice." He swallowed thickly knowing what he planned, knowing the dark world he planned to step back into would probably spit him out dead. Shaking his head, he sloppily wrapped up his hands. "No one can help me now. And I don't want any help."

"You're giving up. Where's the man who never gives up?"

"Sometimes you need to know when it's time to quit, to understand you can't fix everything. I broke us and that's the way it is." His heart contracted in his chest, as he sighed deeply, finishing up the bandages.

"Please think, Oliver. Give her a little while longer, you two can still fix this."

"NO MORE. I can't fix it. I've tried everything from staying away, to flowers, to cooking for her, and she doesn't want anything from me anymore. She's thrown everything I've done back in my face. She's shut me out. And what's worse is, she wants to hurt me now and knows how to turn the knife. I can't keep going back for more pain. I'm done. I'm leaving and that's the long and the short of the story."

John scrubbed his face with his hands before saying, "Both of you give me a headache. Okay, , listen up. I'll help you here. I talk to Felicity. She cried on my shoulder when she left you. You betrayed her by not trusting her. I mean Malcolm knew about William before she did, and even after you knew Malcolm knew, you still didn't tell her. You do realize that twice in the last year Malcolm Merlin had known something she didn't because you excluded her? What did you expect? Her to embrace you? Sometimes, you're stupid, man. "

"I'll give you that mistake and it won't happen again. He's dead this time. Thea had him cremated, and she's shattered his ashes to the wind. He's not coming back, which means I can't choose to make that stupid mistake ever again."

"But that doesn't change the fact that you could have told her about William without Samantha knowing. That's another thing that cut her to the core, if there's one person who's always kept your secrets, it's been Felicity Smoak and not only did you not trust her to keep your secret, but you lied to her for months."

"I know and I knew the moment she found out, she'd leave me. I've known for months I've been living on borrowed time."

"Well, it would've been better if you'd have told her a lot sooner. But no, you waited until you got busted out by Darhk, the guy who kidnapped your boy and took her legs. And let me mention that is another time you were not at your best, and yeah, she's lying to you too. She's still holding a grudge about you not coming to see her during her time in critical care. I swear sometimes you're as bright as a burnt out light bulb."

"Watch it. I'd love a good fight right now."

"It's the truth and you know it, just like you know Felicity needs to believe that you trust her."

"I know that but how? I've racked my brain and still don't have an answer."

"Oliver, you need to open up to her, share your past with her and share the bad with her. Maybe if you could be weak once and lean on her, it could make the difference. You know you need to open up and show her the bad. Let her see the dark inside of you."

He looked at the floor. "I would but I can't get the words out of my mouth, John. They won't come out. I've tried. It's not happening."

"Well, think about it, and make sure you stop by before you leave. If you're serious about leaving, please come and talk to Lyla, let her find you work. I'd feel better if someone had a clue how to reach you, and then maybe you won't end up in an unmarked grave somewhere."

"Thanks, I'll consider it, John." Then he reached out his hand and his friend carefully shook his bandaged hand.

"Good, Oliver. But I want you to think about going back into the dark, truly think. It's not you anymore. You're better than that. Promise me, man, you'll think hard?"

"Of course."

Then John turned on his heel and walked away.

But he knew he'd already turned the fork toward the dark, and there would be no going back. He'd lost the best part of himself, since he'd lost her, lost her light, and his path once again lay shrouded in darkness, and he had only a few things left to do before he walked away in the morning.

#####OQ#####

"Felicity, he's hurting himself. You've punished him enough. Please, give him a chance. Talk to him."

"John, I haven't even started punishing him. And he asked you to call me didn't he? Well, it's not going to work."

"NO, he asked me NOT to call. This is totally me talking because YOU need to think about him leaving, about him being gone forever. I know you're angry with him, but are you sure you and him are over?"

"I've spent weeks thinking about what a train wreck we are, and YES we're officially over. Remember I gave his ring back weeks ago, and he's still a self-centered liar, who never learns from his mistakes, and I'm just lucky I didn't actually marry him. "

"Where's the woman who loved him, Felicity? Don't you care that he's hurting himself? That's he's losing it? That he's lost his way?"

"He killed my love with his lies. And hurting himself is his choice. A bad one like normal, but that's Oliver. Just stop trying to turn this into my fault because this is not my fault."

"I didn't say it was your fault."

"Darn right it's not. God, he's an idiot sometimes. Now, I mean it, John, let him go because I have. I'm done with him. I've told him repeatedly to leave me alone. I went so far as having him removed from my office today, and the next time he shows up, I'm going to have him arrested for stalking."

"I'd have never believed you could hurt him like this, that you could be this mean. You know he has problems. How can you treat him like this? How can you hurt him like this? Where's your compassion gone?"

John's soft words tugged on her heart strings, but she gripped her phone tighter and stood a little straighter as she made her words crisp, "AWAY! And they're his problems now, not mine. Six weeks have pasted, he needs to move on. I have! Laurel's funeral has been over nearly three weeks and it's getting easier each day. And it helps that that's something else that's his fault."

"Felicity! Don't say things like that. Laurel made her own choices. It's not Oliver's fault she chose to go up against Malcolm alone."

"That doesn't change facts. If he'd choose to kill Malcolm, instead of just taking his hand off, Laurel would still be here."

"Felicity, you know you don't mean that. Please stop lashing out and think about him. He's lost right now and on a path to self-destruction. He's going to."

She interrupted him with the words, "To leave me alone. Now, why don't you call Thea and discuss him with her. She says the same things. But what both of you need to understand is that it's no longer my responsibly to watch him, to care what happens to him. I QUIT THAT JOB. WE BROKE UP!"

Exhaling sharply, her stomach in knots, she added, "And you can tell him that he should listen to Taylor because she's right 'we are never ever, ever, ever, getting back together, like ever.' Have you heard that song, John? If not go ask Google and listen to it, since you're not talking me back into listening to anymore of his lies. Now, enough is enough. GOODBYE!"

And she hit the end button, knowing she meant each word. That song had become her fight song, the one she played when she weakened and wanted to read his texts, the one she blasted when she weakened and wanted to answer his calls, and her brain whispered to give him another chance.

"No more chances, Oliver. I'm a grown woman," she said out loud, walking toward her apartment complex. "I'm over you. You doesn't get to hurt me ever again. And, I'm not letting you back in."

Yet, John's words nagged her, as she walked up the stairs toward her apartment, and she tried shrugging his words off.

Who cared if he did something foolish?

It's not my problem, she told herself. But she knew she hadn't been civil to him in weeks, not in the limo when she'd asked him to kill Merlin, which she knew he'd done, not in her office, which she had had him removed from, or in the lair.

No, she didn't want to give him any kind of chance to tear down the walls she'd erected around her bruised heart.

Oh, she knew he'd tried his best to break down her defenses, as he'd come with his peace offerings, with his home cooked food and his flowers, and she savagely sent him away, even thrown his fern at him today. And today had been the worst since she'd had him escorted from the building, and she hadn't felt good about it, but she's warned him, and damn the man didn't know how to listen to her.

How many times could one man not listen to her?

Or lie to her?

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," she said, rounding the corner. Breathing out sharply, her words were piercing as razors as she looked at him. "You've got a lot of nerve coming here. You truly want arrested don't you?"

And she reached for her phone.

His head snapped up at her harsh words, his face worn and drawn, as he leaned against what started out Laurel and Thea's apartment door, and now although unspoken, the apartment belonged to Thea and her.

Her eyes raked over him, taking in his desperately unhappy face. Her face probably reflected the same pinched look as his, since she'd spent all these long weeks where she'd barely spoken to him, six long weeks of sleeping alone, six long weeks of watching his sad lost eyes whenever he looked at her, and she knew neither of them seemed able to cross the great chrism that lay between them.

And she had a problem, a major problem, since she no longer wished to cross that divide. No, she wanted to stay angry with him. She'd wanted to hurt him, and whenever he got near, she lashed out at him, and today she'd already crossed swords with him and to find him in the hall made her grit her teeth and want to punch him, to truly hurt him.

Her tone cold, she found herself saying, "What are you doing here? Oh, I know, you've come to clean out Laurel's closet and room. Her mom promised she would but hasn't shown up. And Thea and I have just shut the door, and we pretend she's gone on vacation. It hurts less than remembering that she's currently lying in her grave, dead at Malcolm's one hand. Hey, isn't that one on you too? If you'd have killed Malcolm instead of taking his hand off, Laurel would still be alive."

He looked like she'd struck him as his face grew stone cold.

Oh, yes, her anger hadn't cooled, if anything it'd grown and her hurt still lay like a lead weight in her chest, choking her, and yes, she wanted to hurt him, wanted to lash out, and he made it easy for her.

Yet, she refused to meet his eyes, knowing her cruel words caused that terrible pained look in his deep blue eyes. It didn't matter that, yes, he'd deserved it, that, yes, she'd wanted to cut him to the quick, to hurt him the way he'd hurt her, but his eyes still pained her, his sad hard face still hurt her heart, knowing she'd caused him to regress to the days they'd first met.

Yes, he possessed such sad eyes, such miserable blue eyes, and she steeled herself to look at him as her chest contracted painfully, and she found herself wanting to comfort him, but instead she reached for her anger, knowing if she didn't, she would reach out for him, for her body wanted him. And that fact fueled her anger even more.

"You're a slow learner today. Do I need a restraining order? I thought we cleared this up earlier. I want you to go away, Oliver. We can't go back and there is no way you're part of my future."

"I know."

"I'm no longer a part of your team."

"I know."

"We BROKE UP. Now are we clear where we stand? Repeat after me, there is no longer, anything, any part of our relationship that points to us being a US!"

He whitened and pressed his lips into a hard line, before he said, "Okay, I understand. But can I have a couple minutes. Just two minutes of your time?" His voice came out hard and flat.

"What part of this have we NOT covered lately?" She ticked off the facts on her fingers. "Let's see, Barry knew, Thea knew, fracking Merlin knew and you didn't tell me. Normal Oliver, lying to me. Normal Oliver, leaving me out of the circle, yet again. How many months did you lie to me, keep secrets from me?"

"I've tried to explain why."

"Just stop. I don't want you to explain. Why don't you get that? I can't listen to another lie come out of your mouth. Now why do you not understand that I need space?"

"It's been six weeks now and trust me that's a lot of space."

"And how long did you keep that secret from me?" She raised her hand and waved her pointer finger. "Let's see, did you lie to me two or three months? Why don't you come back in two months? Or better yet, Oliver, don't come back at all. Why can't you understand we're never getting back together? We're over. I'm done. I can't do this anymore. We are FINISHED!"

"Okay, I know you're angry with me. You've made that crystal clear repeatedly, and I'm not asking you to talk to me. But could you listen? Could you give me two minutes of your time, please."

She sighed and said, "You're darn right I'm angry with you, and I want to hurt you and you're making it easy because you keep coming back for more. Now, step aside. I'm tired and I'm NOT DOING THIS for the second time today. Are you going to make me have you arrested? Because I will if you don't stop stalking me."

This time he flinched before he said in a strained voice, "Two minutes and I'll go away. I need to say this, to do this. I'm going crazy here. I have to make one last effort to make you understand."

"Then just say whatever new lie you've thought up and get it over with. You know you're just like my father, a liar. And, as usual my mother's wrong. She thought you were a good one. Come on, justify lying to me. Samantha wouldn't have ever known if you would have told me. We both know I keep your secrets. So, let's hear you justify keeping secrets from me after everything we've been though in the last three years. I dare you."

His face tightened and his mouth formed a straight line before he said, "I deserve that, and you're right, I can't. But I need to say this to you. Please, give me this one last time. Just two minutes? Please, let me talk."

Sitting her purse on the hall floor, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and narrowed her eyes. "All right you have exactly two minutes."

Uncrossing her arms, she reached for her phone in her purse, looked at the time. "Go."

He scrubbed his face with his hands, and she noted the sloppy bandages on his hands, but she refused to ask what he'd done to himself, as she shoved down Dig words that he'd hurt himself.

No, she wasn't going there.

"I wanted to tell you about William, but I knew you were going to leave me when you found out about my son. You'd already done it once just before Vandal Savage killed us. And Barry warned me that he'd time jumped and that when you mess with time it doesn't end well, which I took to mean that what had happened would happen, and I knew you would leave me."

"Time travel? Savage killed us? What are you talking about? Again something I didn't know? Truly, Oliver, YOU'RE NOT HELPING YOUR CASE HERE!"

"Yeah, right, forget the crazy stuff that just came out of my mouth. You can ask Barry for the details later, but that's not my point. Right now, what's important is that I knew you would leave me when I told you about William, and I foolishly repeated the same stupid mistake. I chose not to trust you."

His eyes became bright and he blinked repeatedly. "And I've always trusted you, Felicity, and you're right I'm still lying to you. I've always been . . ."

Oliver's voice broke before she watched him swallowed hard. "I'm afraid . . . truly afraid if you knew the things I've done you would see the monster inside of me, the animal, that if you knew about the dark parts of me that I'd lose you forever. You're right that I can't share the bad stuff. I can't lean on you. I can't be a true partner because I don't know how. But the idea of losing you forever paralyzes me."

She wanted to reach for him but held back, reaching for her anger instead, with the words, "You should have thought about that before your lie. And your point, Oliver? I've always known you don't want to include me in your past. I know it was just another way of lying, now my legs are getting tired of standing here. Do you think you can you finish this up?"

"Do you need to sit down? You should have said something about your legs being tired sooner. I'll move but I want you to know I'm proud to see you up and walking. Bless Curtis, that man's a genus."

"Yes, he is and this little piece of tech in my spine is going to save Palmer Tech and help a lot of people in the process." She looked down at her phone. "Your two minutes are over. And you can go away now because nothing you've said has changed anything. You haven't changed, and you're still trying to charm your way out of this and it's not working. Leave me alone. I want you to GO!"

Again he winced, but she refused to give in to the guilt, knowing she'd purposely hurt him, as she warred with herself, for she'd missed him, but she knew she couldn't take him back with the way things were between them.

"Felicity, I've racked my brain trying to figure out how to prove to you that I trust you, how to make it up to you for lying."

"You can't, now I mean it. Get out of my way."

She bent and picked up her purse.

"Wait, I want you to understand why I have problems trusting, why I can't open up. I don't know why I keep making such stupid mistakes but I do. But I need you to know, to understand about me. I want you to know what's goes on in my head sometimes. Here take it. I'm trusting you with my words, with my notebook. Please read it."

Reaching under his arm, he handed her a green book that she recognized, one she's seen him write in before.

"I'm not good with words, not like you are and this is all I have to explain why I'm like I am, and if you don't want to ever speak to me again, I'll understand, and I'll stay away. I promise you. But I want you to read it."

"No, I don't want it."

She tried to hand the book back and both of them let go at the same time, and the book fell to the floor with a solid plop.

And for an instant their eyes connected.

Oh, the things that man could say with his blue eyes, as her stomach dropped, and she wanted to forgive him, wanted to reach for him, but a tiny voice nagged that he hadn't changed, nothing had changed, and she straightened her spine and stopped her hand from reaching for him.

As she watched, his frowned deepened, his eyes slammed shut before he reopened them, and he gave a slight nod before he said softly, "Then throw it in the trash, throw it away. I don't need it any more. Goodbye, Felicity."

Something about his tone made her pause, since it reminded her of when she'd first met him. He had been cold and resigned, and she wondered if she'd just missed something vital.

Watching, she saw him swallow hard, give a large sigh, before he turned on his heel, his arms wrapped around his chest like he had a chill, before he walked away, leaving her looking at his broad back, with a lump in her throat.

She seriously considered leaving his notebook in the hallway, considered leaving his book where it lay, while thinking it would serve him right. Yet, her feet refused to move, refused to walk away and leave his book in the floor, for yes, she couldn't stand leaving his book in the floor. She realized that the green notebook belonged to a man with few belongings, which made it even more significance since it became even more of a puzzle.

And yes, she hated puzzles. Yet, she loved solving puzzles, and she had always considered Oliver her own personal puzzle.

One of the reasons she loved him, nagged her mind.

Shut up, she told herself, we're never getting back together again.

"I'm not going to read you. This is just another ploy." She told the book lying on the floor. Yet, slowly, she bent down and picked up Oliver's green notebook and unlocked the door.

The apartment empty, she looked at the book in her hand. She could count the number of times she'd seen his book on one hand, on one finger actually, and for all she knew he'd wrote recipes in it. Only once had she'd come home and found him in the bed writing, and when she tried talking to him about his notebook, he'd shrugged her questions off with the words, "Just jotting some ideas down," and had quickly turned the moment into a sexual encounter.

Now, she realized he'd been running a diversion to stop her from asking about the book.

Turning the green book over in her hands, she comprehended that come to think of it, that'd been the last time she'd seen this book in his hands. Yes, his green notebook had disappeared like smoke, and she hadn't thought about the notebook since.

No, things like Darhk ruthlessly taking her legs, Oliver's terrible betrayal, then thankfully getting her legs back, and the constant struggle to not forgive him, to remain angry with him, had occupied her mind. But here in her hand, she held the notebook he'd been secretive about, and he'd given it to her.

HMMM?

What had he said?

"I'm trusting you with my words, with my notebook."

And she frowned as she opened her bedroom door and then threw the green notebook on her bed and exhaled sharply, as she thought did she want to know?

Did she want to forgive him?

NO, she thought bitterly, and she turned the light off in her bedroom, shut the door, and ordered delivery.

Frack Oliver Queen.

I'm not going to read it.

Yet, she knew she lied.

#####OQ#####

Now what did you think? I look forward to hearing from you. And yes, this will be short story, and I will finish it in hopefully about 6 chapters. Would love some input. I write for reviews you know.

And as always thanks for the read!


	2. Chapter 2

#####OQ######

"Ignore it," she told herself repeatedly as she ate a few bites of pizza, then stuffed the leftovers back into the takeout box before putting the box into the almost empty fridge. Maybe she'd eat it later or maybe she'd eat pizza for breakfast. She patted her almost upset tummy, knowing she'd dropped weight since they'd broken up, but she found it hard to swallow food past the lump that had lived in her throat ever since she'd walked away from him.

And he's lost weight too, she thought. She'd seen the proof in his gaunt face today.

Which just proves we're lethal for each other, she assured herself and the words "Just say NO," came out her mouth. Pouring a glass of wine, she forced herself to go into the living room and pick up the remote. Clicking the button, she surfed through the channels, but she groaned as her mind plagued her.

"Open it. Read it. He wants you to read it. You know you want to," her mind nagged and she told it to SHUT UP and tried to watch a movie.

But of course her brain wouldn't hush. Instead, her mind whispered, "It's his notebook. What do you think is in it? And he gave it to you to read. What are you waiting for? JUST GO READ IT," her mind taunted her.

Groaning, against her will, but helpless to resist, she got up. Entering her bedroom, she turned on the light. Sitting on the bed, she pulled her shoes off, as she reached and rubbed her tired feet, finding herself thankful she could have tired feet, still eternally grateful every day that she could feel and move her legs.

Oh, how she loved Curtis and his wonderful tech, his awesome, outstanding tech, with the emphases on standing, her standing.

Oliver's green notebook stared her in the face, daring her and taunting her. Of course, his notebook would be green, not blue like his eyes, or brown like his hair in places, but green, his favorite color. Slowly, she ran her fingers lightly over the book on the bed, biting her bottom lip, then she stood and turned her back on it.

Quickly, she changed into comfy pjs. Entering the bathroom, she washed her face and brushed her teeth and hair, but she knew she only put off the inevitable for the green notebook called her name. Walking back into the room, she flopped down on the bed.

Carefully, she smoothed his notebook, her fingers raking over the smooth outside cover as she gathered her strength, then she reached out and picked it up and with a deep breath, she pulled the band off the book and opened the first pages to reveal Oliver's broad handwriting.

Like all things the man did, he did nothing half way. His text lay crisp and clean on the page, nearly perfect, his cursive neat and very legible. Propping her head up on her hand, she began to read as she noted the date to be well over three years ago, not long before she'd met him.

"I can't sleep. I can't stop the dreams. I've read on the internet that when a person has been through traumatic experiences and can't sleep, that it helps to write things down. I don't know if that's true or not but I'm willing to try anything. And if writing about those times helps to get them out of my head, out of my dreams, I'm game. I desperately need my dreams and my memories to stop tormenting me. Wasn't living it once enough? Trust me, once was torture enough."

The date changed and she frowned.

"I hurt my mother after she touched me in my sleep. I'd fallen asleep on the floor, and I went straight for her throat. She should have never touched me. I should have locked the door since I know it's dangerous to touch me when I sleep, when I dream. I could tell by her face I'd shocked her. She tried to reassure me that I'm home. But I don't know what home is anymore.

And I know I shocked my mother because I sleep on the floor, but at least I can sleep there. I've tried every night since I've been back to sleep in the bed, but a soft bed is too strange now, not that I sleep much anyway, but I sleep better on the floor. If I'd known the storm was coming, I wouldn't have left the windows open. I'd opened the windows because my room made it hard to for me to breath.

My bedroom with all its strange familiar things, no longer belongs to me. It belongs to a young man, a foolish boy who died a long time ago. I'm someone else now. The space seems small to me, like the walls close in, choking me almost, and I need the noises from outside to feel normal. I miss the insects and the frogs, the normal sounds from the island, the sounds that warn me when something or someone is moving near me.

Quiet meant danger on the island and the quiet of my now strange bedroom hurts my ears, causes my adrenaline to rush, and puts me on high alert. To feel safe and better, I opened the windows to let the noise of the nightlife in to assure myself that it's safe to sleep. But like most nights, the nightmares plague my mind.

I'm sure the storm brought on the dream of the boat going down in the storm. It is a dream where I clearly see myself reaching out my hand for her as the boat violently tipped on its end, as the sea's water forcefully sucked her out of the boat and away from me. I clearly feel the giant waves pull at me, flinging me into the water as I fight the storm, the waves, as I fight desperately not to drown before my father and a crew member pulled me into the lifeboat."

His words came fast and angry, his hand writing changing, as he spoke of being in the lifeboat after the boat sank, "Tonight I dreamed of being in the lifeboat. I sat there sipping the last of our water as my father told me he failed our city. I watch my father shoot the crew member to give me the last of the drinking water, watching as unexpectedly he then shot himself in the head. My poor, gentle father, the man who'd never laid a hand on me, blew his brains out in front me in the lifeboat, to give me a chance to live right after he asked me to survive and right his wrongs. And for the first time in my life I learned about being alone."

He wrote about the island. She read of a man shooting him with an arrow, a man who'd befriended him and taught him how to fight, and she read how his enemies had captured him, caged him and the man in the mask who'd used his knife to introduce him to torture. And her tears began to flow as she read about how he the playboy, the spoiled rich boy, a man but still almost a child, with no fighting skills had learned to survive in a world filled with pain, grief and war.

And he'd been unable to control anything about his life and found himself smart enough to know it and the fact pained him. No, never think Oliver dumb. She knew better than that. He might not have survived in college and might make bad decisions at times, but dumb, no, never.

He wrote of the man from Australia, another man who'd taught him to fight, and he wrote of the things that happened to him on the island, and then on the boat.

She soon realized that his journal wasn't in chronicle order. No, it jumped to whatever nightmare haunted him that night, sometime to what had happened that day, what he thought he'd done wrong on the mission, ideas for better arrows and then he would speak of trying to learn to feel again.

"I'm cold inside today, like ice. Many days, I'm lost in this world. I can't stand all the useless noise here, and I retreat to the foundry to train."

He wrote of a book, the book, she realized, the one she'd trusted him with, and he wrote of crossing names off his list. She smiled when he wrote, "I have found a friend in a good man. This man is willing to help me right my father's wrongs. It is a good day for the city."

"Awe," she said aloud. "And a good day for you too, Oliver, the day John Diggle joined forces with you. I wonder what you're going to write about me or if you'll write about me at all?"

Then in block letters amidst all the horror, she found herself in his words.

"I found the GIRL in IT today. I had taken her a shot up laptop. I can't believe it. She's almost too good to be true. Can it truly be her? I can't accept it as true it, but I think it's her. The blonde, the one that I saw years ago. HER. The one that made me smile when I thought I didn't know how anymore. The one I thought about as I hung in chains, and the one I thought about while I lay hours in the small cage. She has been my good memory more than once.

And I know it's foolish but again, today I smiled, for what seemed like the first time in years. She is past cute! Totally adorable comes to my mind. I like to listen to her talk, listen to her sing song voice. And the way she smells makes me want to lose control. I found that I wanted to get hard just looking at her, which is unreal since I learned to control that a long time ago and normally never even think about sex."

"Since when?" She said aloud with a knowing smile. "The Oliver I know thinks about sex a lot." But she read on still smiling.

"But there is something about her. I can see her as a person, not an enemy. Yet, I know there is no future for us. I must save the city, right my father's wrongs. I can't think about her."

Heart pounding, she checked the date and then she blew her breath out sharply, knowing she would never forget the date she'd met Oliver Queen in the flesh and somehow he'd already seen her in the past?

What?

Her brain tried to wrap itself around that information. And she wanted to text him, wanted to share and talk to him.

What the frack?

Yet, when she reached for her phone, wanting to text him and wanting to ask where he had seen her before, she forced herself to refrain and keep reading, as the man's bitter life flashed before her eyes.

His notebook kept her turning the pages as she learned about his scars. She learned about his nightmares, learned that he dreamt about the people who'd given him his scars, over and over, she learned of the men who'd tortured him repeatedly.

And she read about his anger that he harbored deep down. She read of how he'd learned to mask his face but still his rage burned bright inside him. He realized that he hadn't been able to stop them from hurting him, that no matter how much he'd trained, no matter how well he'd fought, men had still stabbed him, cut him, beat him, burnt him, threatened him, and betrayed him repeatedly.

She noted that for the first time his writing had a slight left slant to it, his lines were not exactly crisp when he wrote, "I fought a man who tried to drown me in the bay today, and now I sit and write the dream, the nightmare, in hopes it will never come again.

Being in the water today, I dreamed of sucking in the cold water from a fifty gallon barrel, of being held under until forced to swallow the water. I clearly remember the chains on my wrists, the blood running slick down my hands from fighting the chains, as the hard hands held me under until I drowned.

Over and over, the men questioned me and drowned me then used a defibrillator to shock me back to life. I would come back from the dead screaming and puking water, then they would hold me under again, kill me again, until I finally broke and told them what they wanted to know, until I begged them to kill me. But even then, they didn't stop, the bastards didn't stop because they had to make sure I'd told them everything.

I hate this dream for it is one of the worst I have. And I know what I did later to those men who did this to me. Those men who made the mistake of not killing me because I escaped, and later I found each and every one of them that had held me under, shocked me, and brought me back to life repeatedly. Even though several of them went into hiding, I still found them. And I gave them more mercy then they ever gave me. I granted them the blessed darkness. And, trust me, I didn't bring them back to life."

Checking the date, she realized he'd written this right about when she'd joined the team. She understood exactly what he meant, as she shivered from his dark words. And, yes, she'd known in the beginning, he was a killer. Yes, he'd been completely ruthless in those early days. Reaching for the blanket at the end of the bed, she covered up and kept reading.

And as she read she began to understand that he'd learned from his tormentors, that he'd killed repeatedly, and he'd tortured men, while his own guilt, his own anger at himself, at becoming this monster tore desperately at him, haunted him and his hard words broke her heart, and she found herself repeatedly wiping tears from her eyes.

In the beginning when he'd first returned from the island, he'd spoke of righting his father's wrongs, of saving his city but slowly she'd entered his thoughts.

He'd written. "I touched her shoulder today and got a rush from it, which is stupid since I ached to kiss her, but all I allow myself are small touches and looks. I stare at her when she's not looking and the ice inside me melts a little. But," He'd left a large space, a line of dots as though he'd hesitated before he added, "She doesn't know the real me. The animal, the ruthless cold-blooded killer, the angry monster that lives within me. And she never will. I see that she likes me, and I think she would welcome me if I asked her out on a date, but I will not, cannot encourage her. I am not the one for her no matter how much I would love to date her."

Felicity frowned knowing she would have said yes to going out with him. The huge crush she'd on him at the time had engulfed her, but she never realized how deeply and how long he'd wanted her too.

However, more and more, as she turned the pages, she found that she'd begun to fill his thoughts, and she realized that her presence had been changing him inside for a long time, warming him inside with her smiles and her babble.

And the butterflies in her stomach haunted her as she understood that she'd touched him inside, had begun to help heal him inside, and she knew he had changed her inside too, given a her confidence she'd never possessed before. She went from being an IT girl to being almost a super hero herself. And her mind thought of Oliver telling her that her super power was her brain. And she couldn't stop the smile knowing he believed in her too.

"I look at her and wonder if I could be happy. Still more and more she warms me inside. Somehow, part of the ice in my chest has disappeared. I find myself wishing, wanting normal things. She has such wonderful eyes, and they remind me of the open sky. Enough of this foolishness, I have to go work out. I can't have her no matter how much I want her. I have to stop thinking like this."

In another entry, he described a tall slim women that he hated, that had used him, kept him hostage, had forced him to spy and torture for her, and had threatened to kill his family if he didn't comply. Later, he escaped her for a time but she had found him, had drugged him, then forced him to return to the island to do more of her dirty work.

"Well hello, Amanda Waller," she said aloud.

A small child, one he had consider a friend had died in what she knew now to be Hong Kong, killed by the bio-weapon, and he'd become a monster hurting the man he considered at fault horribly. He'd become such a monster that afterward he'd jumped a ship. But the first mate had then sold him like a piece of meat into bondage to someone he called the butcher because he could fight.

He had disappeared into the dungeon of a rich man who had repeatedly tortured him.

When he began to write of that man, she realized he'd never used names in his musing, always concealing. He had even protected the man's name who'd chained him, tortured him and cut him repeatedly, stealing all his control. And of course, while this monster had enjoyed him helpless, chained and desperate, Oliver had still defied the man.

"Oh, Oliver," she said, wiping tears, "Trust you to not scream for him and make him hurt you worse. You're such an idiot sometimes."

Far into the night, she read. To survive, he'd learned to stitch his own flesh from a man, a friend, who had taught him to harvest his own blood, while the butcher forced him to fight bare fisted in an underground fight club. For months, he had been at the man's mercy until he'd trained long hours and found a way to kill the butcher and his guards, to kill them viciously, ruthlessly in bare feet, the butcher with his bare hands.

Cringing, she found herself glad when she read the words that he'd killed the men that'd taken his shoes from him. She found herself overjoyed that he'd killed the men that stopped him from running in the snow.

Yes, she found that she wanted him to kill the men who'd locked him in what sounded like a dungeon, these men who'd made him live in dirty socks and the same clothes. And she knew he liked to be clean. He showered at least once a day and she knew it. Come to think of it, he never went to bed dirty and now she understood why.

Again, she found her heart glad that he'd killed the men who'd refused him warm clothes, refused him warm water, and locked him in a room, forgot him and starved him. Men, who'd locked him in chains and dehydrated him to the point of dying more than once deserved to die she thought as she read the words, "Some days, I want to get drunk and sleep hard, but drinking brings the dreams about the butcher leaving me for days without water. I hate the dreams that replay those painful days."

However, she noted that again his writing had changed, gotten a little sloppy as he'd written, "To almost die from dehydration truly punishes a man, tortures a man. The drunk is not worth revisiting the times I hung in chains slowly bleeding with a raging thirsty. I hate remembering that after seventy hours without water the fever and the chills set in. I hate remembering how my raging headache tortured me and my thirst became a living thing that tormented me constantly as I ached to die.

I know now that the headache came from my brain bumping against my skull, as my body's water level fell so low that my brain didn't have enough water to float. It is pure torture to know that each breath I exhaled helped killed me. Yes, the butcher taught me that with each breath you exhale, you release water from your body.

The horror of this story is that yes, later I used this knowledge against other men. The butcher taught me well, bleed them slowly dry, stop all fluids, give them nothing to drink. Then, wait a few days for a man that goes a few days without water, a man that bleeds a few days, dehydrates a few days, will tell you anything you want to know. Yes, most man will beg you to let them drink. Well, I begged not for water, not to drink, no I begged to die, but if you have time to kill, this process works well on other men.

I will admit I am ashamed that I learned well from the butcher. He knew how to break a man. And he liked to bring me to the end, bring me right to the edge of death, close enough I reached out for it, hoped for it, but then he would let me heal for a few days, and the game would begin again."

Hugging her pillow tightly to her, she read about the times the butcher had locked him in a tiny cage in the pitch dark, cramping his large body, forcing him to pull his knees into his chin, while he smelled the scent of his own blood. And his fury had raged bitterly, and he'd kicked the cage over and over, determined to either get stronger or die. Trust Oliver to use the cage to strengthen his legs as he planned his escape. Later he'd practiced jumping as he had continued to plan.

Repeatedly, he wrote about a man, trapped with him, who had befriended him and kept him alive. This man forced him to drink water when he wanted to die, kept him alive for months. The same man tied him to the bed so he couldn't pull his IV out, couldn't pull his stitches out while he stitched his chest. The same stitches the butcher would take out of his chest again and again.

And she found herself wondering how he'd managed to stayed sane, though she'd had to admit that maybe he hadn't, since he'd been flirting with insanity when she'd first met him.

At other time's he wrote of Russia. Yes, he wrote about his enforcer days. He spoke of using his hard fists, his vicious skills with a sharp knife, and how he'd tortured and killed for the Bratva. His words spoke of how he'd disappeared underground into the darkness, into the horrible world of the Bratva.

No wonder the men in Russia had helped him, his reputation had no doubt preceded him, and they would have heard the whispers of the hideous crimes he'd committed. And those men had understood he would have no mercy if pushed, that he'd kill them all painfully, and if they crossed him, he could be ruthless.

Then she found herself shocked that in a blood bath, a shootout, with another Russian mob, he'd accidentally killed a young boy. He had shot the child by accident. When the shooting ended, he'd been horrified. He wrote, "I rounded the corner and it should have been a man but too late I had pulled the trigger and instead of a man a small body hit the ground. I handed my gun to his sobbing mother and dropped to my knees and begged her to kill me. But, instead, she'd tossed the gun to the ground and spit on me, telling me to live with what I had done.

That day, I parted ways with the Bratva, and returned to the island, wanting, needing to find Purgatory. I returned to the island because I found myself unfit to be around people, and I find that to be true again. I am returning. I will leave this place. It is for the best for I think more and more of her."

Again she checked the date and found it to be just after the undertaking, and she realized he'd returned when Tommy had died, clearly running, undoubtedly punishing himself. And as she checked the date she realized that he'd not written one word about the Undertaking, the dark archer or Tommy's death. Instead, he wrote about the past that haunted him.

Yes, his words about his time with the Bratva were harsh, and she skimmed most of it as he described some of the things that he'd done, as he wrote of cutting people's fingers off, taking a man's eye out, pulling men's teeth and nails out with pliers, terrible violent things that he'd done to other men as he'd bathed in men's blood, letting some of those men bled slowly out, only to stop the blood, give them water, then begin again. "Yes," he wrote, "l learned a lot from the butcher about breaking a man, about how quickly a sharp knife, constant bleeding, and no water can make a man talk."

A month had pasted between entries, and he wrote in quick strokes, "Can you cheat on someone that you are not dating? I'm beginning to think so. I've made a foolish mistake when out of town, and I hurt her, and I can't even say I'm sorry. And then she told me I could do better, and I know she is talking about her caring for me. Well, I'd like to do better. I'd like to do her. Okay, I admit it. How I'd love to do her but I don't dare. Already, I ache to touch her.

I already care too deeply for her, which is selfish.

Bad me.

I have already put her in danger helping me, but as a couple how much danger would she be in? I can't be self-centered. I can't have her. I know what happens when I only think of myself, and I can't lose her for she is too special to me."

Isabel Rochev and Russia, she thought and she said out loud, "And I'm glad you felt guilty. You should have. I know you took that evil woman to bed. And she bedded you just to spite me. And I'm still not sorry I hit her with the van."

Yet, she'd known he'd punished himself at times and that he'd worried for her safety. When she read the part about of his terror when the Count had taken her, she'd gotten up and poured herself a large glass of wine after she read, "I killed again for her, to save her, to protect her for there was no choice to make. I had to protect her, and I've never been more terrified in my life. She could have died. She's my light and I know it, but I have to stay further away from her. Yet, her smiles warm me, and I want to step closer. I have to stop myself from reaching for her and when she smiles it me, it makes it harder to not reach for her."

Weeks pasted and she checked the date and realized his mother had died, and she found it strange again that he never mentioned his mother's death, or come to think of it he had never said a word about Roy being injected with Mirakuru, nothing about Sara returning or the League of Assassins.

But now she knew he'd meant his words when he'd said his first "I love you," to her then he'd stuffed a syringe in her hand to take out Slade. Yes, as she checked the date she realized that after they'd returned from locking Slade away, he'd written, "I said the words to her. I know I should have never used her for bait but she is a strong, smart woman and only by surprise and deceit could we defeat this enemy.

I knew she could do it. But I fooled no one but myself when I said the words, the man knew the truth when he heard it even I made it seem later that the words weren't true. Even when she questioned me, I didn't admit the truth to her but I think she knows. Something in her eyes tells me she knows.

Yes, I had to say the words to her, in case the chance never came again. And, she's wreaked havoc with my useless emotions for a long time. I will write the words I cannot say in truth to her. I love her, how intensely I love her. When she told me that she's believes in me and hugged me, when I had my arms wrapped around her I felt I could do anything.

Yet, she scared me when we wrecked the van. When we stopped crashing, my first thoughts were of her. I don't know what I would have done if my friend would have said she wasn't breathing. Even with my blown knee, I had to carry her from the wreckage, had to give my bow to my friend, had to feel her against my chest, and had to feel her warm body against my body. I needed to feel her breathing, needed to know she'd survived, needed to make sure she lived. I trusted his word, but I had to feel her breathing for myself. And I don't know how to handle these feelings I have for her except to bury them deep.

Yet, she makes me want her, makes me want change. Could we have a future? Would she want a future, a life with me? I wish for her. I ache for her. What am I thinking? She probably doesn't love me. She adores the idea of what I am, a HERO, not who I am. I'm too damaged, too dark, too angry, and too cold inside. I'm not a HERO. I wish I were for her. I want to be a HERO for her but NO it is a lie. But I try to be her HERO. I want to be her HERO, for I love her desperately and need her frantically. I want, no I need, no I ache to breathe her in and to finally touch her. Enough, this foolish love of mine has to stop."

Her heart flipped in her chest as she read his words again. Then she said, "Oh, Oliver that's not true. It has always been you, the man that I've loved, not the hero. I mean I love that you're a hero, but it is the man I love." She rubbed her tired eyes, pushing up her glasses with the words, "Stop talking yourself, Felicity, and read."

His words pressed on and she turned the pages. Toward the middle of the notebook she had become his fixation. And, yes, the man had wanted her, and her ego bathed in his words, when he spoke of what he'd like to do to her, with her, and how he wanted to touch her.

Oh yes, Oliver had fantasied about having her, and the man wrote some pretty hot smut, even if he couldn't always spell or know where to put a coma. But he'd admitted on the page, in his green notebook, that he found that sometimes he had to touch himself to thoughts of her.

And yeah, that made her smile too. What woman didn't want her man to think of her during times like that? Not that she wanted him to be her man, she assured herself. But still if he was going to pleasure himself the very least he could do was think of her when he did it. She thought well he could look at porn.

Liar, her brain whispered. You would rather he thought of you while he did it.

And she found herself blushing.

Realizing as she read that during their time together, he'd acted on some of his fantasies with her. She knew now that he's done many of the things she'd read with his wonderful hands, his hot mouth, and his awesome hard body.

Heaven help her, the man made her hot just reading about what he'd wanted to do with her, and it didn't help that she remembered the things that he'd done to her, with her. Biting her bottom lip, she found herself wishing he lay beside her right now, so she could take him hard and fast, with her on top, something they hadn't done it months, not since she'd gotten hurt.

No, his notebook pulled no punches, and she found his words personal, raw, and above all truthful, and she knew he'd never intended anyone to read what he'd written. Again she wiped tears realizing he'd given his words to her, sure that she'd never speak to him again, as he'd prepared to let her go.

Smiling, she read his perfectly formed words.

"She bought me a bed today. I didn't know what to say. I sleep on the cold floor. The cold is normal and right. It grounds me to this world, but for her, I'll try. And maybe someday I'll lie beside her in a bed. Could I have a life? She makes me want a future. I want to reach for her but?"

And she reached and again she wiped tears from her face, and she kept reading as he bared his soul to her.

Repeatedly, he wrote of his fear that he never wanted her to know these terrible things about him. His stress poured off the page.

"Today she bought me a fern and made me smile. Please," he wrote, "never let her find out about my black soul. About how damaged I am inside. I can't control the memories some days. Never let her know that I lose time, and I realize I don't know how I came to be standing in the lair. I am still lost some days."

His PTSD got the better of him some days. And she knew that he had PTSD problems, if she would be honest, she'd known for years that he had chronic PTSD. But they had never discussed it, but she'd never known how hard he'd struggled to hide it from the world, from her, just as he'd struggled not to love her.

Yet, his words, his entries told her the real truth.

Something, she normally never got from him.

"I love her but I can't reach out for her. I asked her to dinner and almost killed her. And I wanted to make dating her work. I wanted her. Yet, I can't write this anymore. I'm going to work out. I'm past sad. I wish I could have her beside me. I ache for her. I need her. I have to stop writing this, stop wanting her. NOW!"

Time moved forward and a lot time gaps existed between entries. She narrowed her eyes when she noted his handwriting had become rather sloppy as he'd written, "If she wears another dress with all those holes, tempting me with all that skin I am going to. . . Stop, I can't do this.

I want to but I can't . . .

But I want to touch . . .

I need to touch her.

Yes, I love her skin. No, I past adore her skin. I want to touch her skin. I can smell her from the moment she enters any room. And she is making me crazy on purpose. Oh how, she makes me fight my hard on. I ache. I want to take her hard against the pillar in the lair. I want to rip that dress from her. The animal in me wants to come out. I WANT HER TERRIBLY. I ACHE FOR HER. This holding back is killing me, but I made a choice. No matter how hard this is, I chose. I have to keep her safe, and she would never be safe with me. But I WANT HER, ache for her. Why can't I have something that's only mine? She should be mine. Please once could I have something I love, and not have to watch someone else have what is MINE."

She fanned herself as she said aloud, "You're right, Oliver, I wanted you to want me. I wanted you to ache for me like I wanted you, and how I ached for you. I wanted you badly, really terribly. I would have climbed you like a tree if you would have given me half a chance. And even if I'm mad at you, you're still such a hotty, Oliver."

Then she turned the page and in the next entry he'd written in capitals, heavy and dark. "I HATE RAY BECAUSE HE TASTED HER FIRST."

Oh, frack she thought. And she got up and got the ice cream out of the freezer, preparing herself.

#####OQ#####

Review if you have time and thanks for the read.


	3. Chapter 3

#####OQ#####

Ice cream carton in hand and a spoon, she settled into a chair in the kitchen and reopened his green notebook. Her mind been replaying the fact he'd actually written Ray's name. Never before in his entire notebook had he written anyone's name. But, Ray's name screamed off the page, and he'd blackened the letters, over and over, truly blackened Ray's name and the word 'hate.' She could tell he'd been enraged when he'd penned those words and his hatred for Ray screamed off the written page.

She noted that his crisp carefully handwriting had disappeared, and now, his handwriting lay heavy and dark on the page and it'd lost its normal precision.

Checking the date, she realized he'd written these words right after Ra's had made him the offer, and she'd been sleeping with Ray. She'd wanted to love Ray, oh, how she'd wanted to love Ray, wanted to wash Oliver Queen completely out of her mind. The man made her completely crazy.

Taking another bite of ice cream, she read, "I know I have no right to her. I know she doesn't belong to me that I have given up that right, when I told her I couldn't do US. I'm aware I've slept around and had sex with countless women when I was young and dumb, and I know she knows that, but she doesn't understand that most of them meant nothing to me.

Back then, I had sex, something I've learned to live without for long time. And it has been months since anyone but me has touch me. But I don't want to have sex with someone I don't care about. No I find I want more. I need more when we," and he scratched out the words 'when we' and wrote the words 'if we' before he scratched those words out too. He moved down to the next line and wrote, "I am aware she has every right to move on. I know I ended US before we began. I know she wanted to try, and I decided being together too dangerous for her.

And she clearly told me she didn't want to be a woman I loved. She stabbed my heart, savagely hurt me, and I think she knew she'd ripped my heart from my chest with her words. To be so sweet, she can be wickedly mean sometimes. But, I got her message loud and clear. And, now, I find I am not only nursing my still battered chest and back from the demon's blade, but my stupid heart aches every time I look at her, even after all this time, I ache, yet like a moth to the flame, I can't help but look at her light.

However, every time I look at him, I can see he's touched her places I've only dreamed about touching. My gut burns as I can tell from the way his hands touch her skin that he has had her, and I see her lean into his touch. I see her smile. And he makes sure to find my eyes, he makes sure I know that she is his.

I want to explode into action. I ache to hurt him. I want to use my bare hands on him and break his bones.

Yet, I can't. I am not the one for her. I need to step back, STOP thinking I can have her. SHE IS NOT MINE!

But watching them together, I find that I want to break the man into tiny pieces, slowly, painfully. I ache to hurt him. Damn him for touching her. She belongs to me. She is mine.

Okay, she doesn't officially belong to me but she should. I find that I want to take his fingernails off one by one, and then each finger slowly, then I would chop his hands off at the wrists for touching her. I ache to bleed him out slowly, drop by drop, as I watched, then I'd sear the wounds, stop the bleeding and in a couple of days I will give him a drink and start again. "

And she realized that he wanted to dehydrate Ray, wanted to torture him, wanted to make Ray linger, and she cringed at the pure darkness that she hadn't realized still lived within him.

But her foolish mind quipped, well what girl didn't want her man to torture and kill for her? Shut up brain, you think of the worst ways to think things at times, she told herself as she continued reading.

"Seeing him touch her in her office this morning hurt me more than even being in the butcher's small cage, with no food or water for days on end or even rivaled hanging dehydrated for over three days in chains. And it reminded me that I saw him kiss her in that sexy blue dress, watched them embrace. I had intended to admitted to her that night, that I actually, truly love her, the night that I would have told her that I wanted to try to be a couple, that being without her, seeing her with him kills me inside, that I can't stop the constant ache that lives inside me, the ache I feel for her. But no, I opened the door to her office and found her in his arms and the sight destroyed me. It stabbed me and it hurt. I couldn't breathe and felt like someone had gut punched me.

Seeing, Ray kissing her that night hurt more than any of my scars and still hurts. I've lost her and it's my fault for waiting too long to reach for her. I knew. She warned me that she wasn't going to wait with me to die, and I knew she wanted me to choose her instead of the city, and I wanted to but didn't know how. Yet, I never knew her being with someone else would hurt this much."

Shutting her eyes for an instant, she processed that he'd seen that kiss. Oh, she'd known he'd withdrawn during that time, but she didn't know the depth of what he'd felt or how much seeing them together set him on fire inside. Knowing how much control he normally had over his emotions, now she knew, he'd been foundering inside that entire time.

As she read on, she found he'd focused on trying to deal with Ray's and her relationship.

"My friend's wedding destroyed me. I wanted, needed to leave before the groom and bride even said their vows. I couldn't stop staring at her in that red dress. She wore that color to hurt me, I swear.

I HATE RAY.

I lied when I said I wanted her to be happy with Ray. Oh, yes I LIED. SHE IS MINE. Totally, completely mine. MINE damn it. SHE'S MINE, and I can't have her.

The man enjoyed the fact I knew they were together, and I truly enjoyed knocking him on his ass. I did not enjoy helping her go back to him, smoothing their relationship. Yet, she rewarded me with a kiss on my cheek, like we were friends, and it took everything I had not to turn my head and kiss her on the lips, to show her what burns in my veins for her, to prove she's with the wrong man, to prove I could out kiss him, and to prove that she is mine, only mine.

But nothing has changed, if anything things are worse and to reach for her now would be nothing but foolish. The magician has warned me that the demon will not take no for an answer. To pull her closer now would only place her in more danger.

I must leave this place soon. I can't keep watching and not touching her for I am becoming insane, and I am considering the demon's offer."

He'd seen Ray kiss her? He'd been coming to tell her he wanted to try to be together? Again, she wanted to reach for her phone. Yes, she wanted to text him and ask WHAT? We need to talk about this.

What the frack?

Then she thought, well that explained his actions about that time. She'd remembered his body language, how nervous he'd been every time he'd been around her. And thank heavens, he'd refrained from taking Ray's hands off, though from the look of things, it had been an effort to hold himself back as many times as he'd written the man's name.

Yes, she realized now that Oliver Queen had found himself jealous, maybe for the first time ever, Oliver Queen was jealous. And yeah, she smiled broadly, loving his discomfort, since how many women had she watched him be with?

And, darn right, she'd wanted him and had wanted him to want her. Yes, she'd liked Ray and had truly wanted her relationship with him to work out. They'd clicked, Ray and her, and they could have taken their relationship to another level but foolish her, does she pick the rich, handsome genius who she could talk tech to?

No, at the time, she couldn't seem to stop loving Oliver. She had a type and that type had been Oliver Queen for years. But it seemed that no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't shut loving Oliver off and once again, you'd been angry with him, she thought.

Oh, yes, weeks now, at least six weeks, she'd been actively, no desperately, hunting the stop loving Oliver button. She'd pulled her rage, her anger in close and nursed it every chance she'd gotten. Frowning, she wondered if maybe she'd finally found the stop loving Oliver button as she considered actually letting him go this time.

But do you still love, Oliver? Her mind taunted. Do you? Can you turn your back on him for forever? Can you let him truly walk away?

And never touch him again? Never have him touch you again?

And she pondered the thought, her mouth a straight line.

Several weeks pasted before he'd wrote again. And once more his handwriting had lost its crispness, this time to the point of being sloppy.

"The demon has won. Once again, I find I have no choice in my life. I find my life, my world totally destroyed, everything my team and I have worked for and loved destroyed. My life is in flames as I find my family gone, used as a pawn. Plus, I've made a deal with the magician. She would hate me for it but I must save my city. My home is gone, invaded and destroyed. My name is gone, and my friend is gone.

The mad man plans to kill everyone and destroy my city. I have to believe the magician that he plans genocide. I must do this. So many innocent lives for mine is a good trade. It is my duty to stop him. At least, she and the others insist on coming with me. I will at least get to see her a few more moments before giving my life over to the darkness again. I am glad I have held back and never touched her so she can come home and forget me, for I am sure this will be the last time I will ever see her."

And she knew he wrote of Ra's, the demon, and the magician, Merlin, Thea being gone and of her and joining the league.

No, he didn't know that she would come to him in that bedroom, that weird fairyland room, with its red pillows and his bare skin and hard hands that had trembled when he touched her, the man who had inhaled sharply as he'd carefully removed her glasses, as he'd understood that together they had stood at a crossroads and this could be their only chance, and they had thrown themselves at each other.

Later, if anything, she had loved him even more after their failed escape, as he'd wrapped himself securely around her heart, with his words, "I love you more," said in front of the others even after she'd drugged him and tried to make him break his word to Ra's. And she knew his word meant everything to him.

He told you goodbye today, her mind whispered, the man that doesn't say goodbye.

She stabbed the spoon into the ice cream and assured herself that, it means nothing, and like I could ever forget you, especially after we truly touched each other. How did a woman forget the first man that had not just made love to her body but had made love to her soul? How could she forget the man who acted like each time he touched her was beyond special, and he totally loved her body, slowly and thoroughly, each time putting her pleasure before his.

And she knew how special the fact he put her first was.

But he's the man that doesn't know how to asked for help, and who lied to you for months, her anger reminded her, as her fingers tightened on the spoon, and she took another slow and thoughtful bite before rising and placing the spoon in the dishwasher and replacing the lid on the ice cream and sticking it back in the freezer.

Stretching, tired now, she still sat back down and picked up his green notebook, and she smoothed her fingers over the cover, and she felt his pain. Slowly, she flipped the pages, as she read the next entry and it made her heart race as she remembered how excited she'd been to leave with him, to finally been the one he'd chosen, and to be the one he'd finally wanted.

"I'm leaving with her, my love, my wonderful strong women, the one I never thought I could never have and my heart's too light for my chest. I don't know how to handle this much happiness. The strength of my love for her overpowers me, overwhelms me, and I know she loves me too! I can see it in her wonderful eyes. And she's agreed to go with me, to leave this place with me. My life is good for the first time in a terribly long time.

My chest feels strange with no ice in it. I don't know how to act.

Yet, my dearest friend has every right to be angry with me but by taking his wife, I protected my team from the alliance. I kept that group from killing my team even if she tricked me by bringing in weapons and refusing to be searched, and I, the fool, fell for it.

Pure luck only kept someone from being killed. I lost control and came close to hurting my friend. The demon has been hard on me. He has awoken the darkness inside, and I fight to find the light again. I have done things that I am ashamed of during this time. She has agreed to leave with me but issues still exist between us.

Hopefully, someday, my friend will forgive me and understand I had to do it, that the demon had done his best to drug me, to brain wash me, and to bend me to his will. I chose not to eat to keep my mind. I starved myself to hold onto my mind. And I fought hard, harder than I ever had to keep my mind.

I have new scars, but I survived the repeated beatings. I lost the gantlet as they beat me into unconsciousness, more than once. I killed when he told me to and lived through the dungeon and the torture and said the words after they threatened to end her, threatened to kill my love and leave me alone. I did what I had to do to survive and keep her safe. I had to keep her safe, even though the demon used her against me."

She inhaled sharply. Ra's had threatened her life to make him obey? He had starved himself?

Again, he'd never said a single word, not one.

Now, she really wanted to text him, wanted to ask him questions, but the book had gotten thin now, and she would finish it.

"Together we leave this place behind. I'm happy, beyond happy to be with her. And my chest feels strange, odd. It is light instead of heavy. I find it warm instead of cold. She has changed me inside, healed me, with her light filled smiles."

And she wiped tears again as she realized he'd never said one single word when he'd returned from Ra's of what they'd done to him, not one word of what he been through, not one word of how they'd hurt him, not to her, and as far as she knew not to anyone.

No, he'd bottled everything up inside himself, and her heart hurt for him, for she knew he would not get to stay happy, that his happy days would be short, and she would make it worse for him.

He deserves it, her mind reminded her. He lied and didn't trust you and gave his son up without even talking to you about it.

And you love him but can't do this anymore, she reminded herself.

During their travels, he'd written, "Will the demons ever leave me alone? I try to hide the nightmares from her, but I know I wake her up, and she realizes I have bad dreams some nights. I am afraid of what I will say in my sleep, and she continues to push me to talk about the dreams. I can't talk about the darkness. I don't want to wake the evil inside. I can't. I just CAN'T!"

And yes, she'd known the dreams had bothered him and that he'd had trouble sleeping. She'd tried to get him to discuss the dreams, but he always managed to sidestep the conversation. He'd also crept from her bed in the middle of the night, and she'd caught him, and they'd fought, as carefully as Oliver could fight for he didn't know how to fight, no, he tended to shut down into silence and just let her scream and rant.

Oh, yes, he knew how to disappear and how to be silent, but he didn't understand how to be a couple and fight back. And she had abandonment problems herself, and when she realized he got up in the middle of the night and left her bed she'd yelled at him, and he'd shut down because he'd been unable to argue back. Another, strike against him, she thought.

Her father had been the same way. Her mother would yell, and he'd leave, until one day, he didn't come back, leaving her mother holding the bag and her wondering what she'd done wrong? But no she knew that wasn't the true story. Now she knew her mother had snuck away from him, taken her and hid her away.

That's the reason you're being this hard on him, her mind nagged. Your father's visit broke open all those old wounds, and you're taking it out on him, blaming him for what your father did or rather your mother did. And even though you know he's come so far, grown, and understand that some things are very hard for him.

She pushed those thoughts down, as she flipped toward the end of his journal. As the pages grew thinner, she found for the first time he'd wrote only of happy times, wrote of the small things they'd done together that'd pleased him.

"I taught her to fly a giant kite on the beach today and found myself laughing carelessly as the wind chased her hair. What a 'wonderful happy day.'" He'd written complete with the quotes. "I made a picnic and a sea gull stole her chicken leg right out of her hand. I found the look on her face priceless as she looked shocked then she'd laughed that wonderful laugh of hers as I gave her another piece, and she had given me a quick kiss as she quipped 'now that is the very definition of takeout chicken' as the sea gulf escaped with her chicken leg.

And I laughed. It felt strange to laugh but I truly laughed out loud.

Later, we walked the beach hand in hand, and we watched the tiny sand pipers chase the waves. It's a day I will always cherish, always remember, as I find my heart wanting to explode from the joy inside me.

Can this be real, I find myself wondering? Yet, I wait to wake up and find it is nothing but a nice dream, and I have few nice dreams. Yes, I find I need to touch her repeatedly to assure myself this is real. I find she grounds me to this world."

And for the first time in the entire book, she could literally feel his happiness radiate off the page, as she realized he feared he'd dreamed them, that he'd wake up and find out they weren't real and again she wiped tears.

She bit her bottom lip, remembering how often he'd touched her. He'd placed small kisses on her head, his hand had carefully stroked her shoulder, or touched her arm lightly, or he'd simply reach out and cautiously taken her hand. And she'd taken his touches for granted, thinking he'd wanted to express his love, and now she knew his touch assured him that she, that they were real.

His next entry, however, made her smile through the tears, because she remembered that day well.

"Only a few moments since she's in the shower, but I wanted to write that that I, no we, better yet US had an awesome day. We had a picnic, and we played on the swings. She makes me feel young sometimes, and I'm extremely old inside some days. Yet, I find myself beyond happy, and for the first time in years, I've found hope that I could have a happy life with her."

After the words he'd drawn two intertwined hearts, and that small drawing screamed out loud to her how much this man loved her. It screamed how much he'd changed, how far he'd come from the dark man she'd glimpsed over the years, and now knew him to be, since he'd finally found hope for his future, for their future.

And the knowledge made her heart ache, as she realizing how mean to him she'd been to him lately, and how much he'd must be hurting inside right now, since she'd stomped his hope repeatedly into tiny pieces.

Yes, lately, she'd pushed him away, and she knew she'd left him no hope for them. She'd told him over and over that no hope remained.

Her chest ached, as she remembered that day too. He'd made them a picnic, and they'd eaten in a public park. Afterward, they'd walked hand in hand in the quiet, listening to the bugs and the birds, and he'd mentioned that he'd felt such peace in this place with her. Now, she realized that the surrounding reminded him of the island, and as he'd written in the beginning the park's sounds full of birds and bugs made him feel safe.

They'd spent the afternoon there, and they'd found a playground. She remembered plainly how he'd teased her, dared her into getting into the swing, then he'd pushed her high, with the wind whipping through her hair and both of them'd laughed aloud like children. And she'd dared him to swing too, and he'd surprised her by climbing in the swing beside her.

And together they'd swung and smiled, returning for a small moment to childhood.

Later, walking back to the car, she remembered that he'd pushed her carefully, gently; always vigilant not to hurt her, he'd pressed her against a tree and the child with in him deserted him, as the needy man kissed her thoroughly, almost savagely but still carefully as he touched her.

His calloused hands had lightly touched her face, barely skimming her skin, and she'd felt like he wanted to memorize her face, as his hands had moved slowly, tenderly, making her feel almost fragile and exceptionally special to him. The unique moment had then turned passionate, and after a time, he'd pulled back and taken deep breaths, his face buried in her neck, composing himself, before he'd grabbed her hand and drug her back to the car. Grinning, he sped home to love her gently and thoroughly, and yes, it'd been past good, and it seemed the day'd been memorable for them both.

Frowning, she knew she'd purposely hurt him lately, yes, chosen to hurt him. When she'd given him his ring back, she knew she'd watched him send his son away then chosen to end their relationship. She could have selected another time, waited a while, but, no she'd lashed out at him. She'd had no compassion for him and had aimed to hurt him because he'd hurt her by not talking to her, and she wanted to hurt him for not allowing her any part of the decision to send William away, and she couldn't forget that he'd kept secrets from her, and Malcolm'd known before her.

Knowing she'd point blank asked him, and if she'd admit it to herself, she'd known even then he'd lied to her, and she should have called him on it that instant, should have pushed him to tell the truth.

What of you keeping secrets from him the entire summer? Her mind questioned as she quickly silenced that thought.

No, she thought, that's not the same.

Isn't it?

Didn't you help the team without telling him?

Yes, and he'd not even been angry, with her. But she had been past angry with him for keeping secrets.

And so what if he'd come a long way when it came to talking, her anger had lashed out at him in a fit of temper, and then her wonderful biochip had worked, and she'd stood for the first time in months. His voice had been filled with wonderful and what had she done?

She thought, and you stood and turn your back on him, knowing it would hurt him, wanting to hurt him, and you knew he wanted to share the miracle, the joy, but no, you denied him that, and you turned your back on him.

Oh, yes, she'd seen the pain in his face, had known how deeply she'd hurt him in retaliation for his lies and lack of trust, and she'd twisted the knife by leaving him alone, and her stomach knotted and now she almost felt bad about her actions, but she reached for her anger.

"He deserved more than that." She said aloud.

Now, she had to force herself to read his final words, as she realized their end loomed near.

"I don't want to go back. I feel that something will happen, and I will lose her. I don't want to lose the closeness, the way my heart races when I see her, the freedom to sleep and make love with her, without a threat. Please, just a little more time to be happy. Just a little more time, but no, I see the future. I don't want to go back to the danger. I'm going to lose her. I feel it.

I know the end is near.

My chest is becoming cold again.

I look at her, and she doesn't understand how wonderful it is to constantly monitor for threats and to find none, to come up empty. We're safe for the first time ever, and I'm off-balance because of it.

I love her desperately. And I find I'm afraid.

I lay awake after the dream, and I watch her sleep in peace, and it heals me. For the first time, as I lay awake after the nightmare's rush, after the horror has gone, I can rest as she grounds me back to the real world, and I feel safe. And lately, I have found that sometimes I can sleep more than a few hours with her beside me.

Yet, I knew life had become too good.

I knew the time would come and my happy life would be gone.

I'd planned to propose tonight then they showed up needing help and the moment became lost. I wanted it to be perfect, the meal, the candles, the flowers, for never have I given my heart away, ever. No, even in my youth, never has anyone touched me inside as she has touched me. Now, I fear I will mess US up somehow. I have put the ring away. The timing is wrong. I will misstep and she'll see the real me, the monster that still lies sleeping deep inside me, and she will walk away and never look back, and I'll be alone again. I don't know if I can be alone again. I have a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach."

Biting her lip, she knew she'd done exactly that to him. She'd left him alone and now she knew that he'd stressed about being alone, stressed he would misstep, which of course, he did since he's human, and he's Oliver, she found herself thinking, as she frowned deeply.

Checking the date, she realized that Thea and Laurel had come asking for help that night, and she'd pushed him to return to fighting crime, something she known he hadn't wanted to do. But he'd returned to help the city and stayed to please her and she knew it and so did he.

"She wants us to stay, wants to help the city. I want to go, to disappear. I want to go back to my happy place with her. But to make her happy, I'll do as she asks and help. But only for her. I stay only for her. The dark inside me screams and claws at me that to keep her safe we need to leave this place. I want to pack her into the car and speed away. It takes everything I have to resist the urge to not be a caveman and put her in the car as she asks me to stay here.

This new bad is dangerous, and I find myself helpless against him, yet another reason to leave. The demon warned me of him, and I feel the darkness within him. Brother recognizes brother. I'm sure I'm making a mistake staying here. I fear that he will hurt her." He had written a week later.

And she realized he'd been right. He'd worried about her safety and he'd been right. He'd wanted to leave to protect her, and she wondered if that could have been one of the reasons he'd stayed away when she'd been in the hospital, the fact he'd known that something bad could happen, and he'd not protected her.

Then for weeks he'd wrote nothing. No, he'd kept his silence, writing nothing about asking her to marry him, nothing about her being hurt, nothing about the son he'd found, and nothing about the lie he'd kept secret or the campaign.

No, he'd kept quiet.

And she found herself wondering if the reason he'd not written about the these things were that somehow not putting it down on paper, kept things from being real as she remembered he had also not written about Tommy's death, his mother's death, his time after Ra's kicked him off the mountain, Thea's injuries, Roy's death and rebirth, or having the Arrow ripped from him.

Then, he wrote, "She's asleep and my guilt is eating my gut because I asked her to rush the wedding tonight. I know I'm pushing her, but I'm hoping that if I tie her to me before she knows the truth, I can be selfish and keep her. And I need her to take her vows to heart and forgive me when she finds out the truth.

Yet, I taste my own fear, and it is tastes copper and bitter in my mouth, like my own blood. But how can I marry her with this lie between us? I want to tell her the truth. How can I be this foolish? Yet, I know she will leave me as soon as she finds out. I want to tell her but cannot get the words out. This a lose, lose situation. Please I need to figure out how to fix this!"

She shut her eyes against the pain for he'd been right as soon as they'd saved William, she'd left him.

Another week pasted and she realized this entry must have been the day she'd caught him in the bed with his notebook.

"I'll be alone soon. Today, she pulled away from me. Nothing but a small misunderstanding, yet I feel her withdraw. And I know what's coming. I'm going pay for my sins yet again.

Yes, the truth will come out and snatch my happiness away. I've known for a long time, this we, this US, was too good to be true. And I've no one to blame but me. I have destroyed us, just as I've destroyed everything good in my life, everything I've ever touched. I knew I should have never touched her to begin with. I'm in agony, my chest is growing cold, icy again, and I wish I could change what is about to happen but I don't know how to fix."

His words had stopped in mid-sentence and that must have been when she'd walked into the room, and he'd put the notebook swiftly away.

With the next entry, the pages had grown thin as he wrote in sloppy prose, the crispness gone completely from his hand writing, as he carelessly written something then scribbled his words out for the first time ever. He had marked whatever he had written so many times that he'd damaged the page and she couldn't make the words out. Then he had written in the worse handwriting she had ever seen him write, "She has left me. Given me the ring back. We are over. I'm going to . . ." More scribbles and he'd blacked out the words.

Then he wrote. "I knew when I looked in her eyes that she would not forgive me this time. But she's ripped my heart from my chest with her true words. I know I deserve this. I knew she would leave me but I never knew it would this hard. It truly hurts to breath.

Yet, I also feel such joy. I am over joyed that her implant's working, the biochip is working. My wonderful, strong woman stood up from her wheelchair, turned her back on me and walked away without looking back.

I am extremely proud of her strength, of her, for as always, she knows how to steal the show.

Yes, I deserve her fury. I betrayed her love. I betrayed her trust. I know that. And I have no one to blame but myself. I knew, had a warning, and I'd made the wrong choice by not telling her not just once but twice. But, I don't think I can stand this pain. Each breath hurts, my chest hurts, everything hurts. The cold, the ice is enclosing my chest again. I have to stop writing this."

Again, she found herself wiping tears as she read his entry from a two days ago. Once again, he had marked several times through the words but this time she could still read his jagged writing.

"She hates me and won't talk to me. I can't fix us. I can't get her to forgive me no matter what I do. I am totally lost. I can't do this anymore. This has to stop. I can't keep doing this to her and to me."

Blowing her nose loudly in a tissue, she carefully flipped through the blank pages at the end of Oliver's notebook. And with a turn of the page, she viewed his last entry, which held today's date.

Steeling herself, she noted he'd returned to his carefully controlled cursive writing, almost as though he wanted the words to be formed perfectly, oh, very much OCD, Oliver.

"My True Love,

I can only hope that you cared enough about me to read the notebook I gave you. Let me say first that I am sorry that I have brought the darkness that I have struggled with for years into your mind. You know now I NEVER wanted you to know these things about me. But I am sharing all I have left, and I am worried about you."

"Me?" she said aloud, with a frown as she read on.

"Anger, rage, pure fury, the darkness, is all I have seen on your face for weeks. It has to stop. You must turn from this path now before it is too late. I have walked the dark path for years and never would I want you to know the blackness that awaits you there, since you should always walk in the light. It is another of your super powers for you have always pulled me toward the light.

You were the best thing that has ever happened to me. You are smart and funny and wonderful. You showed me how to hope, how to find true happiness, and how to embrace your wonderful love. You taught me how to smile and laugh again when I had long forgotten how. And you found my lost heart and I thank you for that. You are such a special person.

I make no excuses for my choices, for my actions, except that I couldn't make the words come out of mouth because I'd already lied to you. Which again leaves me with no excuse, except that I hoped that I could catch the other shoe before it hit the floor.

But normal me, when it comes to relationships, I missed my cue, and I failed and like everyone else you rightfully left me.

I have no one to blame but myself. But, know I can't face you and watch your face fall as you read the truth about me. Now you know that NO, I'm not a hero, not even close. Yet, if I could take your pain from my betrayal away, I gladly would. If I could take your anger away, I would in a heartbeat. Now, I know I hurt you by not sharing, by not trusting, and I can't even say I'll never do it again for if given the chance, I probably would. I'm well aware that I'm good at making mistakes and bad decisions."

"Yeah it's something you truly excel at it," she said to the book, then read on as she realized his words were coming to an end.

"I wanted a healthy relationship with you, but I messed that up by not sharing, by not telling you. I want you to understand it is my fault, and I trust you, I've always trusted you, but again I will make no excuses. But I do want you to know that you're the closest thing to bliss that I've ever had. I'll love you for the rest of my life, and I don't regret a second of our time together.

Now, I understand you are angry with me, and I deserve your anger, and I recognize how easily rage can engulf a person. Please, don't think I have shared my notebook with you, shared the terrible things that I've done to others, shown you the dark parts of me, asking you to forgive me for my mistakes, my sins, because NO, I shared my memories as a lesson to you, to show you what the rage, the anger, can do to a person inside.

I hate how terribly angry you are inside right now. Never have I known you to embrace the darkness, embrace the rage as you have lately. Always before, you have made a joke, laughed it off, or stood strong. But no, not this time, and it pains me that I caused this reaction in you, and I'm dreadfully sorry I hurt you enough to make you embrace the rage as you have.

Now, please, don't be like me, let the fury go. Even if you can't bring yourself to love me anymore, please let go of the darkness, don't let the anger engulf you as it has me, and don't let it eat a hole in your beautiful soul."

She noted that his penmanship had once again begun to falter. His perfect crisp lines had started to slant and his last words were sloppy compared to the ones above and her heart contracted in her chest, as she felt his raging pain cry off the page.

"Now, please could you do me one last favor? Please, forget me and find someone that will make you truly happy, someone you can trust and that trusts you, someone that never keeps secrets from you, and who you can love and loves you back, the way you deserve to be loved, because you need to live your life.

Goodbye and best wishes for your future."

Her head snapped up, processing the fact he written the word goodbye. She flipped the rest of the pages to find them empty. Now she knew that he truly planned to leave, that he would no longer try to fix them. Oliver, the man who normally never gave up had twice in one day told her goodbye. A man who after Ra's had never told her goodbye once, no he would kiss her and say, 'See you later,' or 'I'll have dinner waiting,' but not once had he told her goodbye. Yes, she knew he hated to say goodbye, and he'd made a point to say it not once but twice to her in one day.

Yes, the man had clearly given up and truly planned to leave. And as usual he'd shouldered the blame, and now he'd chosen to punish himself plainly saying he no longer wanted her forgiveness. And of course, he would worry about her.

Good, she thought, he should leave and do everyone a favor. But as she reached for wanting to punish him, her heart hurt. How many people had hurt him during his life and now she'd been hurting him, punishing him for weeks too.

Biting her lip, she realized he had a point about her anger. She had embraced it, yes she'd wallowed in her anger. In truth, she'd even pulled her anger close to guarantee she wouldn't let him back into her heart. Her anger had made sure every time he tried to reach out to her, she'd shoved him forcefully away. Swallowed hard, she thought of the dreadful things he kept hidden deep down inside himself, and the guilt he carried like the weight of the world on his broad shoulders and all of this in silence.

And he worried about her? Of course, normal Oliver, he always put himself at the back of the line, as he hurt inside, hid his pain and his rage.

But where had her love for this man gone in those moments of betrayal? How had she just shut off that love that'd overpowered her senses before the truth about him lying had come out?

With anger, her mind whispered, Yes, she'd let her hate over powered her love.

Yet, did she truly never want to never see him again? Could she go the rest of her life and never look into his expressive blue eyes again or never feel his explosive touch on her skin ever again?

No, her mind screamed as thoughts of him actually leaving made her chest hurt.

But he'd hurt her deeply. She'd always kept his secrets. How could he not have shared his child's existence with her?

Samantha had forced him keep the secret, her mind whispered. The woman had told her Oliver had wanted to tell her, and she'd forced him to choose between the child and her.

"Argh, frack! But, do I want him really want him to leave?" She closed the book and placed the band carefully back on it.

Again, her mind nagged her. Did she truly want him to never try to win her over again? Secretly hadn't she enjoyed him trying to make it up to her? And down deep hadn't she known all along she wanted to take him back, needed to make up with him? Could she truthfully sever every tie with him and never forgive him? Didn't she miss him? Didn't she miss his smiles, his voice lowering, the way only he said her name, and could she truly never look into the man's expressive blue eyes again? The things that man could say with his eyes, made her think that there should be a law against his eyes.

She knew she would never forget him. No women ever forgot a man like Oliver Queen, and she knew both sides of him, the dark and the light. But did she honestly want to let him go? Especially now after he had trusted her with everything about him, had bared his soul to her.

And, no one had ever loved her like Oliver, ever. Yes, he'd lied. Okay, yes, he kept secrets, but the man had always kept secrets, her mind whispered. Big secrets, she knew now after reading his notebook. And yes, she knew he had problems sharing and did she expect him not to be human, not to make mistakes, not to have fears that haunted him.

Yet, the notebook proved he'd also loved her intensely, with such passion, more passion than any man ever had and probably ever would. This man who had made love to her with only his blazing blue eyes for years because he couldn't find the words to express his deep feelings, because he found himself afraid of what might happen to her if he reached for her, and it wasn't like she didn't know words were hard for him at times.

If she'd admit it, she'd always known this man wore a mask and beneath the mask he lay damaged, broken inside, that he'd struggled to do right at times, and still fought the darkness at times, and he had shown her more of the real him that he'd ever let anyone see.

While, Oliver still continued to be the strongest man she had ever met and even after all these weeks, after she'd showered him with her hurt and her anger, and the fool worried about her?

Her.

No, not him, but her. He didn't want her to let the anger, the darkness taint her. And he wanted her to go on and find happiness. His main concern didn't help the fact that she still hadn't found the button to turn loving the foolish man off. And she'd wanted, needed, had actively looked for that switch, for that button, to turn loving him off in the last few weeks.

Now he planned to leave this place. What if she never saw him again?

Hurrying, she grabbed her phone and realized the time was well after four in the morning. He could already be gone. Wiping tears from her eyes, she snatched the notebook up and stuffed it in her purse and on auto pilot, she found her car keys. Still dabbing tears, she drove to the loft, hoping he'd waited until dawn to leave.

#####OQ####

The key turned easily in the lock, and she noted his backpack sat beside the door and her heart contracted, relief flooding her that he hadn't left yet. The loft looked spotlessly clean. She could tell that his OCD had been working overtime in the weeks she'd been gone, since he'd scrubbed the loft until it gleamed even in the moonlight.

Walking toward the staircase, she stopped in her tracks as she realized that their pictures were missing from the mantle but as she moved closer, she saw that he'd stacked the picture frames face down on the coffee table. Reaching, she picked up the small stack and looked at the two of them during those happy days of summer, and she realized that one of the pictures had gone missing from the frame. Yes, he must have removed the picture of them in Bali, the one where she smiled brightly as he'd kissed her cheek, and she realized he must be taking it with him. And it made her smile that he would want to take her, to take them with him.

But then she realized he would, no doubt, use the picture to punish himself, to beat himself up inside, and she would bet that every time he looked at it, he would tell himself that if he had chosen differently, he could have had the happiness, could have had the future that seems so real in that moment.

Carefully, she replaced the picture frames on the table. Straightening, she turned slowly, as she realized he'd removed everything from the room. The loft looked like a hotel room, cold, impersonal, and maybe a little too clean as she comprehended that he'd erased his and their very existence here. A small smile tugged at her lips as she wondered if he had wiped the entire place down, removing even his finger prints.

Then her eyes lit on two small computer chips lying on the coffee table beside the picture frames. Picking the tiny pieces of tech up, she stared hard at them. Knowing, he'd crossed a line here.

"Oh, Oliver, you're planning your end. Once more, you're trying to die," she said softly aloud.

Over her head, she heard the door open and even before she looked, she knew she'd find him standing at the railing looking down. Of course, she should have known he would hear her when she'd entered the loft, not that he probably been sleeping anyway. Heaven knew he hardly slept, and now she knew why and about the dreams that tormented him.

"Felicity?"

Her name came out soft and carefully, almost with wonder, as her head snapped up to view him, standing on the stair's landing, dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans, his face a hard mask.

Her eyes searched for his, but he ducked his head, refusing her the eye contact, his tone hard as he ask, "Is something wrong? It's almost five a.m. Is everyone alright? Problems?"

"Yes, no, I mean yes something's very wrong. You're running away again. Look at you. You're dressed and ready to go. Aren't you?" She accused him, her tone dark. "Say something, Oliver."

And he stared down at her, still refusing to meet her eyes.

"Are these the trackers out of your boot and your phone?" Her words were crisp as she looked up at him, waving the tech at him. "Silence? Now that's your normal answer when you don't want to admit to something."

She gave him time to answer but he didn't.

"They are aren't they?" Her voice had risen of its own accord. "You removed them so we," she swallowed hard, "so I won't have any way to find you didn't you? How can you do this to me?" And her stomach plummeted.

He cleared his throat then said, "I didn't see it as doing anything to you since I hadn't noticed you caring what happened to me lately. And, I pretty sure you've threatened twice recently to have me arrested for stalking. I'm making you happy and doing what you ask me to do."

She pressed her lips together in a straight line, then said, "Okay, you're right I said that to you but this? You leaving without any way to find you isn't happening." Shaking her head, she looked up at him, and her voiced softened, "Do you know when you faced Ra's the first time, and you refused to wear a tracker, how I looked for you? And I couldn't find you when you went missing. Do you know what that did to me, to all of us? Well that isn't happening again, not ever."

She talked with her hands, swiping the air in a cutting motion.

"I couldn't stand for it, the not knowing where you are." Leaning down, she carefully replaced the trackers on the table, then stood up and faced him.

"It's not your choice anymore." His words came out hard and dark.

Trying to catch his eyes, she said, "Why would you think I'd let you disappear? Why would you think that you could take your trackers out? That people wouldn't want to look for you? I've never knew you to be this selfish, ever."

"I'm selfish? When you've told me repeatedly to leave, so why would I think you would look for me? And yes, I took my trackers out, and yes, I'm waiting for the dawn to leave, but I'm not running, no, I'm just leaving. Look, I thought I explained myself in my notebook. I want you move on. I want you to let go of the anger, and you're never going to do that if I stay. Now, you should leave because we don't have to do this. I accepted that we're over." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sure you read my notebook. That's why you came, right? To do this in person?"

"To do what in person, Oliver? You're not making much sense right now."

"Stop, Felicity. I've accepted we're done, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stand here and let you put the blade in my heart and twist. I like pain sometimes but I don't like torture. I'm not doing this anymore, Felicity. I can't. I won't. I'll leave right now. I'm done packing anyway."

"I've noticed. Do you think the place is clean enough? Did you leave any fingerprints behind? The place looks like it belongs in a magazine. I bet even the dust bunnies fear for their lives, since you've cleaned them to an inch of their lives."

She'd hoped for his small smile but it didn't happen. No, instead, he said darkly, "I've packed up what I found of your things and they're upstairs. You should get John to help you move the couple of boxes because they're heavy, though I'm sure Thea won't be in a hurry for you to get them out." He looked past her, clearly not seeing her as he said, "But I do know Thea intends to sublet the place or sell it, so don't wait too long."

His voice sounded final and strained, and she had the good grace to wince, as he started down the steps, his face hard.

Again, her mind thought do I want this? Do I want to let him walk away? Can I let him go, forever?

Taking a deep cleansing breath, she moved toward the bottom of the steps, considering what she needed to do, and for the first time in over a month, the first time in six weeks, she took a step toward him, instead of away from him.

Yes, with cautious steps, she straightened her spine, as she carefully, precisely, stepped right into his path, right in front of him. Okay, she blocked him as he stepped off the stairs, knowing that she'd stepped right into his personal space, knowing that the next five or so minutes would change both of their lives, and she faced him with her head held high ready to fight for them.

Reaching, to touch him, she said, "What have you've done to your hands? John told me you'd hurt yourself, and I see sloppy bandages. You would think as much as much as you've been through, you'd do a better job of patching yourself up. Here, let me see what you've done."

His response immediate, he stepped back as if she'd burnt him, and his words were sharp. "NO, my hands are fine. Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd get the hell out of my way. I've told you I'm not doing this. You've said repeatedly that we're done. And, even if I've loved you forever, I'm not doing this to either of us anymore. It has to stop."

"And you write you're worried about how angry I am. Your rage is showing, Oliver, truly showing."

His breath rushed hard out of his nose, with the words, "So what if it is? Don't I have the right? I have lost everything. I've lost you. You read my journal, right? Then, you know that I hurt, that I'm in pain?"

And as she watched his left hand twitched, and she understood how high strung his emotions were at that instant. Like a guitar string wound too tightly, she knew he could snap at any second, yet she also knew he would never hurt her no matter how hard she pushed him.

Softening her voice, she ask, "Do I have to lock you into get you to talk to me? I can always change the entry code."

And she gave him a slight smile, hoping he'd remember.

Something flickered in his eyes, as they shared the old memory, as his met hers, but he looked quickly away as his mask came down.

Her stomach plummeted as she realized that yes, he'd returned to wearing his mask.

"Okay, probably a bad example. I do that sometimes. Give me a second and let me rethink. Alright, please, Oliver, I'll ask. Look, I gave you two minutes, can't you give me two, can't I have two minutes of your time?"

He frowned, bit his bottom lip then he nodded slowly. "Yeah, okay, you gave me two minutes. I can do that. You have exactly two minutes. Sorry, I don't have a phone to time you."

"I was angry when I said that and you aren't taking your phone either? Are you?"

"I won't need a phone where I'm going. Does that mean you're not angry now?" His voice held hope but she had to crush it.

"You're walking off the grid aren't you? And I didn't say that."

Now, his voice sounded tired as he prompted, "Then, go on, Felicity, your time's ticking away. Say whatever you feel you need to say and get this over with. I can't take much more. And no matter what, I'm leaving."

#####OQ#####


	4. Chapter 4

#####OQ#####

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he waited and watched her bite her bottom lip, watched her frown deeply and look over her glasses at him and not say ONE single word.

His gut tightened and he felt about eight again, and Raisa'd just busted him stealing cookies before one of his mother's endless dinner parties. The one's where children were seen and not heard.

The longer she stood quietly frowning up at him the more he wanted this encounter over with sooner not later, and his discomfort made his words harsh, "What are you waiting for? Get it over with, Felicity. Just say whatever you've come to say, since it must have been important enough to get you out before dawn dressed in your PJs."

With a toss of her blonde head, she gave him a small smile, as he attempted to read her face but came up totally empty. But he noted she twisted her hands, as she said, "I haven't been to bed and it's not like you haven't seen them before so don't distract me. I didn't have time to change. What happened to your phone, Oliver?"

"It's gone." He said the words quietly, refusing to meet her questioning eyes. However, he fought the lump in his throat, remembering quiet nights spent together, where he taken those very PJ's off of her and touched her silky bare skin and breathed her scent in. Darkly, he shut the memory off, wondering how long he'd survive this breakup.

And he found himself hoping not for long.

He understood he'd never recover from loving her, so it would be better to make this last conversation quick and to the point. What he needed to do was rip the bandage off savagely and this painful relationship would be over.

"Gone as in you lost it? Or gone as in you didn't play the bill?" Tilting her head at him, she snapped her fingers before she pointed her finger at him. "I know gone as in poof your phone magically disappeared!"

Looking away, he refused his smile, though he found his lips wanted to curve up, and he found himself thinking why does she have to be this darn cute? This breaking up thing would be a lot easier on him if she didn't touch something deep inside him, some emotion he'd honestly, at one time, had believed he didn't still possess.

But he knew better now.

Not only had did he have emotions, they were ragged raw emotions, open wounds that seemed intent on bleeding him dry. He found his emotions lay open like a gaping sore, and he wished he could go back to when he didn't think any emotion existed within him, back before she'd entered his life and taught him how to feel again, to love again and heaven help him, to hurt again.

And this would be a lot easier if you didn't love her, didn't miss her, and didn't completely need her, his mind whispered, and he bit his lip hard, almost brought blood as he told himself to shut up because they were done as a couple.

He'd decided.

"Come on, Oliver. You keep promising to be truthful to me but instead you do your normal shut down? So, put up or shut up. I dare you. Tell the truth for once. What happened to your phone?"

He wanted to be truthful and tell her that what he wanted to shut down his stupid heart, tell her she was killing him and that his heart felt bruised and ached and hurt continuously without her. But he pushed those thoughts away, knowing his words would give her more ammo, enable her to hurt him even more, instead, he said, "No magic this time, my phone's gone as in around three a.m., I stomped it into tiny pieces."

Her face fell and his heart ached more than it already did, as she said, "Oliver, you know it hurts my heart when a piece of tech dies needlessly. How can you say that matter-of-factly? You make it sound like you destroy your cell phone every day. I know you better than that. Destroying your phone isn't you. You're not like that. Why would you do that?"

"Because I wanted to." He schooled his face.

"John's right. You're out of control here." She threw her hands up in the air.

"Darn John, I told him not to call you and what if I am? Maybe, you don't know me as well as you thought you did." His eyes found hers before he said in a hard voice, "And, what if I am out of control? I'm not your problem anymore. You've made that clear. So, maybe you're finally seeing the real me, the ME, THAT'S OVER BEING IN CONTROL."

He ached to hit something and couldn't stop his voice from rising but after one look at her shocked face, he leveled his tone. "Don't act surprised, Felicity. I'm capable of a lot of darkness. And don't get too close, I'm dark inside. You might catch it from me."

"Stop it, Oliver. I don't believe you. If I could catch darkness from you then I would have already. It's not like I haven't been plenty close to you before."

"Are you sure you haven't caught the darkness from me? Believe me, you've been downright nasty to me lately. You've been good at hurting me, and I would have never believed you could be cruel to me, but you've twisted the knife you've got stabbed in my heart, more than once recently."

She at least had the good grace to look troubled before saying, "You're right I've been cruel to you, but, Oliver, everyone has darkness inside them, especially when pushed. We're all human. And, yes, Oliver, I'm human too, and I've said some terrible things to you but that doesn't mean I'm lost forever to the darkness. People can come back from the darkness. People can change. You did after you came back from the island. It took time but you're not even close to the ruthless person you were when I first met you."

"I don't know about that. Look at what I did to you. And, no, Felicity, I didn't change, I just hid the darkness. I understand that now. I buried it but it's still there. And I'm going to keep making the same mistakes. And trust me, the dark is deep inside me, and it's waiting and watching as it eats away my soul."

"I refuse to believe that."

"Why not? You've read my journal. You know now there are things I've never shared with you or anyone else. Believe me, Felicity, there's a lot of darkness living inside me and just because you want to pretend it doesn't exist, doesn't mean that the monster isn't still inside me, awaiting its chance."

Closing his eyes for an instant, he attempted to center himself, as his head began to ache.

"You're wrong, Oliver. I know you better than anyone does. I'll agree you're dangling your feet a little over the dark edge right now, that you're tempting fate, but you haven't jumped completely off the ledge yet. I still see a light in you, Oliver. It's dim but it's still in there. Believe me, you can still step back from the edge. Come on, Oliver, take a step back."

She reached her hand out and tried to catch his eyes but he refused her, slowly shaking his head, he schooled his face and looked out the window into the lingering night scene, knowing he had to be strong about this.

He'd made a decision, and he'd stand by it.

Her frustration came through in her words. "I see you don't believe me. Of course, you don't. Why would you? You and your pity parties, but you still didn't answer my question. Why would you destroy your phone?"

"Because I wanted to. Now, could we hurry this up? Say what you wanted to say. I'm leaving."

She threw her hands up, with the words, "Wait, I forgot you're in a hurry to leave, which means you don't need your phone anymore. Okay, I get it. If you had a phone, who would you call? You're turning your back on everyone who loves you, so why would you need a phone? That's what you're doing isn't it? Admit it; you're severing all ties from this life."

"No, that wasn't why." His voice rose as his stomach knotted. "And I am not having a pity party, I've just made a decision."

"I know about you and your decisions. And you are too having a pity party. It's what you do when you're feeling defeated, only this time you destroyed a poor piece of defensive tech. Why, Oliver?"

"You really want to know?" He clenched his hands repeatedly, reaching for the pain in his aching hands.

"Yes, Oliver, I really want to know. Here's your first chance to be truthful. Don't screw it up." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stuck out her chin, clearly daring him.

"Fine! I destroyed my phone because you didn't call me. I gave you my journal and you didn't call me. I trusted you with my words, with my darkest secrets, and I thought you would call me or text me. And you didn't."

He looked at his feet, and lowered his voice and flexed his painful hands. "And as the hours pasted, I lost control. I couldn't control my rage. I know about being angry, Felicity. Anger and I, we're old friends, which is why I don't want that life for you. And I found that every time I checked my phone and you weren't there I got madder. Finally, I couldn't stand to check my phone one more time and not find a call or a text from you, so I made sure you couldn't call or text, and I couldn't check anymore."

Looking up, he saw her frown, as she now looked at the floor. "In other words, you severed the connection between us?"

"That's one way of putting it. More like I erupted like a volcano and proceeded to stomp my phone into small, tiny useless pieces just like my life."

He stopped his words there, knowing he'd revealed way too much to her.

Yes, he'd stopped talking before he told her, he'd not just reached but embraced the darkness inside him and hugged it close. Before he told her about the black rage that'd engulfed him while he'd destroyed his phone, while he'd stomped and stomped, repeatedly, savagely, until the device lay shattered and ruined in pieces. Before he told her that he'd stood there in what used to be their bedroom and stared at what used to be his phone and compared it to his life, knowing nothing remained of his phone and of his life but tiny jagged fragments of what used to be. And then he'd reached and welcomed the ice in his chest, pulled it close as he'd actively hunted the numbness, as he'd permitted his self-hatred to rise bubbling uncontrollably to the top, and he'd gladly let the hate take raging control.

"Oliver, are you listening?"

Forcing himself, he pulled himself back to her words. "Well did you feel better? Explain to me how destroying your phone helped this situation?"

She looked up at him, with clear expectation.

Clearing his throat, he forced out the words, "No, it didn't." Again, he looked at the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. "But at least I knew you couldn't call or text me after that."

Uncrossing her arms, she frowned at him again, and he straightened his spine and wished this moment would hurry up and to be over.

"Though, I'd guess that's the reason you're here. Since you couldn't reach me by phone, now you've come to finish us in person. So just say the words and get it over with for your two minutes have expired by now, and I have somewhere else to be."

"Oh, Oliver." Her voice broke, "How did we get here? How did you and I get this lost?"

"Don't do that, Felicity. Don't you dare get weepy on me. I can't handle it. And it's not going to make me stay."

"I'm not doing it on purpose. I'm just tired and emotional, and Oliver, you're leaving me."

"That shouldn't upset you. You've been telling me to leave for weeks. I'm just doing what you asked by leaving and not coming back."

"You don't mean that Oliver. You're just angry. And, yeah, I'm angry too, but I'm not running away."

"Felicity, you're right I'm angry. But, I'm not running away. I'm just leaving, walking away, nothing more and nothing less."

"What's the difference? Oh, yeah, one's faster than the other."

"What do you want from me?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "The point of giving you my notebook was so you could understand me. Not so you can give me a hard time about leaving when you've been telling me to stay away from you for weeks. You're making no sense here."

"I know. I guess it's the you never want a drink of water until the well goes dry kind of thing. I admit I'm mad at you. I know you hurt me and I hurt you. Bad both of us. But that doesn't mean I want you to disappear like smoke off the grid."

She smiled a tiny grin, and he noted she again twisted her hands. And he desperately wanted to reach for her, but he held back, refusing to engulf her in his arms and comfort them both, though heaven knew he needed, no, he ached for her comforting arms right now. But he wouldn't make a fool of himself and reach for her and give her another chance to push him away again, so he hardened his heart.

Finally, as long seconds passed, he unclenched his hands and stuck his aching hands in his pants' back pockets, as he rocked back on his heels, with the words. "Come on Felicity, you and quiet don't go together, and we both know your time's up. Say what you came to say. Spill it."

"Maybe, I learning to be quiet," she said with a tiny light filled smile and bright eyes.

"Right and maybe I've figured out social media."

He couldn't help it, he grinned as he softened his words. "Felicity, please, I know you didn't come here to talk about my broken cell phone or to really get back together, so say what you came to say and get it over with."

Giving him a half smile, she said, "I'll admit I used asking for two minutes as ploy to get you to listen to me." Again, she talked with her hands, and his stomach ached, as she said, "But you're wrong. Pay attention, Oliver, I did come to save us. I don't want to end us. Don't leave, Oliver. I don't know how to let you go, and I don't want to learn. You're a vital part of my life and alright, I'm stalling, or maybe if you prefer bluffing, since I'm from Vegas."

She gave him a small grin with the words, "But then you don't bluff. We both know that you don't bluff. Another reason I'm here. You've told me goodbye twice in the last twelve hours. You're leaving me. And I can't let you do that, Oliver."

"Felicity, focus. You left me first. You've been pushing me away from weeks. You read my notebook and now you've changed your mind? I don't believe it. I think you're feeling sorry for me, and that emotion won't last. You'll mull what you read over and then realize what a monster I am. Then you'll remember everything I've done wrong, and we'll be right back to breaking up again. I'm just cutting out the middle man here. Saving both of us time and heartache by what did you say? Oh, yeah, I'm severing the connection between us. You'll see it will be a blessing in the long run."

His words came out harsher than he intended and his face hardened. And, he reached for his mask.

"I'm not feeling sorry for you and don't call yourself that. You're not a monster and we both know it. You're a hero. I want to point out right now that is not the only reason I love you."

"You read that part, huh?"

"I read the entire book, and yes, you're right, you've done bad things. And people have done terrible, horrible things to you. But, I knew that before I read your notebook. You're standing here acting like the past four years we've spent together haven't happened. Come on Oliver, I've seen your scars repeatedly, seen you shirtless repeatedly, and it's not like you went to the scar store and picked your scars out. People hurt you. I know that. You've hurt people. I know that too. But, after reading your notebook, I do find myself not quite knowing what to say. I understand that doesn't happen very often, but Oliver some of the things you have been through. I'm."

"Don't you dare said you feel sorry for me." He cut her off cold.

"No, I don't feel sorry for you. But I'm sorry that those people could be such monsters to you, could hurt you like that. No wonder you're the way you are sometimes. You've survived against some terrible odds."

"I'm well aware I'm damaged. Thanks for pointing that out."

"That's not my point, Oliver. Listen to me. Yes, you have scars, and of course, you're damaged. We all are in one way or another. None of us are perfect. I don't expect you to be perfect."

"You could have fooled me."

She honestly rolled her eyes at him, before she said, "Oliver, would you stop with your pity party. It doesn't become you."

"For the second time, I'm not having a pity party. What I'm doing is trying to deal with what's left of my life. I'm accepting that this is the way I am and you need to accept it too. I'm damaged inside, so I'm just being me. And I'm trying to move on with my life and you need to do the same thing. You be you and I'll be me, and you'll survive this breakup and go on with your life."

As he watched, she shut her eyes for an instant, gave a small shake of her head with the words, "Oliver, you're past hard headed. Listen to me. I don't want to breakup. I want us to try again."

"It would never work. We both know I'm not going to change and you deserve more that I can give you. Please stop, Felicity. This is hard enough as it is."

She groaned then said, talking with her hands, "New approach. Stubborn hard-headed man. I don't know why I bother?"

"Exactly. Give up on me, Felicity."

"Crap, I said that out loud, huh?" She bit her lip and he groaned, as she went on, "Oliver, do you remember when Cooper took my mother and me hostage?"

He remembered his pure panic when he'd found she'd gone missing, but he said, "I remember you made me proud disarming him and taking him out. You were strong and didn't panic. As normal you took control of the situation and did a great job."

"All John's self-defense training finally paying off and you coming for me didn't hurt, but that's not my point. Remember afterwards, in the lair, you told me that you were glad I'd gone through certain events in my life because it shaped the person I am today?"

Attempting to lighten his words, he tried to smile but his mouth refused as he said, "Of course, I remember everything about you, Felicity. I also know that not much has changed between then and now. I'm still reduced to looking and not touching you."

A small smile passed her lips. "Moving on. And that's not my point, either, though, awe, I miss your touches too. But look at me, Oliver. Here, my eyes are up here. Look up, please."

Unable to help himself, to stop himself, he slowly looked and found her blue eyes.

Wickedly, she winked at him and his heart contracted.

"Oliver, after reading your notebook, I want you to know that now I'm the one who's glad you survived all those things because it made you the person you are today."

"You can't mean that."

Her blonde head nodded sharply. "Yes, I do. Think, Oliver. If you hadn't come back from the island and became the Hood, we'd never have met, though I still want to discuss how you saw me years before we met, but that's a conversation for another day. What's important right now it that if all those things hadn't happened to you, you'd have never brought me a shot up laptop, and I'd have never joined the team. You would have never helped me become a hero too." Her voice lowered. "And we would have never have found each other."

He looked hard at her, before he said, "I see your point, but that doesn't change facts. Felicity, I've done terrible things, repeatedly. And we both know I lied to you, kept secrets, and I didn't trust you when I should have. I'm a repeat offender. I will no doubt repeat those same mistakes and you were right, when you told me that a part of me is always going to be on the island. I don't think that's going to change."

"I was angry and hurt when I said that."

"You're still angry and hurt, but I'm going to make the right choice this time. I'm releasing you so you can make a fresh start. In your terms, I'm rebooting your life by walking away from you."

She looked him up and down before she said, "Nice use of computer terms, and yes, you've lied and you've kept secrets from me AGAIN. But that doesn't change the fact that when I realized you're going to leave me, I panicked and came straight here to stop you, to save you from yourself."

"I don't need saved anymore. But, you'll be alright. It's just the change that caused the panic. You'll see, you'll get over me in nothing flat. "

"NO. Oliver, I won't. When I realized you were truly leaving me, I knew what I had to do. You're right when you wrote that I'm angry with you. I'm fuming inside, past irritated at you, I could light up a football field with how angry I am with you, but deep down, I still love the now you and the thought of you walking off the grid, and me losing you forever to the darkness, makes me even madder at you. What are you thinking? You simply can't leave me, Oliver. I REFUSE TO LET YOU."

"Well, you can't stop me from going. It's too late. I've made up my mind."

"Then unmake it."

"No. I can't."

"You're determined to be a fool."

"At least I'm telling you. Would you rather I told you I needed some air and just never came back?"

"I deserve that remark and your anger. I have walk away from you when I couldn't handle it, when I'm angry or you've hurt me. You know, I do have the right to protect my heart, Oliver?"

"I know that. I never said you didn't. But you can't expect me to stay here and keep doing what we're doing. This watching from a distance is making me insane, Felicity."

"Well what's going to happen to my heart after you walked away for good? Have you thought about that? You've been a part of my life for four years and the entire time all I've heard from you was that you've wanted me to be safe."

"Of course, I want you to be safe."

"Well what about you, Oliver? Don't you realize I want you safe too? But you're not going to give me that comfort are you? You're going to leave me to wonder where you are, leave me wondering if you're hurt somewhere, if your fracking bleeding somewhere or lying in a shallow grave. I'll go crazy wondering where you are, if you're SAFE. How can you do that to me again?"

He straightened his spine and hardened his face. "You're the one making me crazy, Felicity. How can I do this to you? Now you care? You've been pushing me away for weeks. What about me? Don't I have the right to protect my heart too? Do you truly expect me to stay here and watch from a distance so you'll know I'm safe?"

"What I don't expect is you to run to some third world country looking to self-destruct."

"You have been talking to John." He rubbed his temple, trying to easy the ache in his head. "I told him not to call you, and I'm not going to self-destruct."

"Yes, you are. And John didn't tell me where you were going. But, it's written all over you. You're into your 'I'm choosing death mode.' You've already done something to your hands. Want to explain those bandages?"

Scrubbing his face with his bound hands, he said quietly, "What do you want from me Felicity? You don't truly want to be together but you want to keep me close? You want to know I'm safe but you want me to stay away. I'm confused. Do you want a man or a lap dog?" He looked hard into her eyes.

Refusing to break his gaze, she looked solidly into his eyes, not backing down. "I want a man. I want you. I want you to live and be like a normal person. You do know normal people can break up and not try to kill themselves? Oh, why does loving you have to be this hard?"

"I don't know. But we both know I'm not normal, and since, I don't seem to be able to figure our relationship out, I'll say what you won't. I'll finish us. I'm done, Felicity and like you said this US thing is over. Now you don't have to worry about if I'm safe or not. I'm not your responsibility anymore. All you have to do is turn your back and walk away from me one last time."

Her face fell and she frowned then sighed and said, "You're right I've done that to you. But once again, you're making the decision, and I get no input into the decision."

His heart pounded as she stepped closer to him, invading his space as he smelled her special vanilla and lavender scent, and desire slammed him hard in the gut, but he'd forced himself to stay put, refused to take one step toward her, knowing he no longer had the right to touch her and touching her would only make leaving her harder.

Opening, his eyes, he found her closer to him, and she frowned hard at him and his stomach tightened painfully, making his words harsh, "Remember there is no US anymore. This is my life and I've made a decision. Understand, Felicity I've made up my mind. I'm leaving."

"Oh, I understand, Oliver but you don't. Listen, that's your PTSD talking, and you're letting it control you."

"Where did that come from? Talk about coming out of left field. I don't have that."

"It's called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. PTSD for short. And yes, you do. You're eaten up with it."

"That's something soldiers get from combat when they have problems coping with real life after coming back from war."

"And you think somehow that doesn't apply to you? You could at least stop lying to yourself, Oliver." Her voice lowered. "You've had PTSD since I met you. Go look it up. And now that I've read your journal, I realize you're a classic case, complete with the nightmares, and I would bet the flashbacks. I've seen you when you're here physically but not here mentally. And saying you're hyper vigilant would be the understatement of the year, no matter what name you're calling yourself at the moment."

His head pounded and his heart sped up. "Well, sometimes, I admit the past it . . . " What could he say, that the past sucked him back, that he lost time, or that he had plenty of nightmares.

"It overpowers you?"

"Yeah, that's a good way to describe it. But, never mind, I don't want to discuss this. We need to go back to ending us. Stay focused and talk about ending us."

He tried to smile at her but again his lips refused to curl upward.

"I am talking about us. I realized after reading your journal that your PSTD is controlling you. It's why you couldn't have a relationship or commit to me for years, and it's the reason that you messed our relationship up with your lies. You shut me out. People with PSTD do that. You simply made the decision to not include me."

"I know that. Guilty as charged. But we're getting nowhere with this conversation. I'm leaving now. This discussion is over."

"NO, it's not. Oh, why do you have to be this stubborn? What about your sister? Or, John? The city? You're planning to walk away from them too?"

His face hardened. "Thea knows and understands why I can't stay, and John knows too. I told him goodbye earlier today. And the city," he hesitated before he said, "you read my journal, now you know I didn't want to come back to begin with. The city will survive or it won't. You want the truth?"

"That would be a refreshing change."

He narrowed his eyes with the words, "I'm done, Felicity. The city's not as important as before. I would have rather had you. I would have rather had us. I love you far more than the city. But, I'm a fool, since for too many years, I stupidly chose the city over you."

"And now you're choosing to walk away from me. What happened to loving me, Oliver?"

His hands clenched with the words, "That's why I'm choosing to walk away. I love you more than you know. But I'm toxic for you, which means I love you enough to walk away and give you a real chance to start over. Please, Felicity, do me one last favor and forget me."

"You've thought this through haven't you?"

Again she tried to catch his glance, but he ducked his head, refusing to look into her knowing eyes, with the words, "Yeah, I've had a lot of time alone to think lately. But I want you to know that I've relished our summer together. I cherish my memories of that time. And I know you were going crazy from all the normal and were bored, but we were alive, and I thought we were happy. I understand you wanted to help people, wanted to save the city and that you wanted more excitement, but me, I just wanted to make you happy. A happy wife is a happy life, kind of thing, even if we never made it to the altar for real. But that's the real reason I came back to help the city, because of you."

Her voice softened, and she took another tiny step toward him with the words, "Oh, Oliver, there have been days I wished we'd stayed away too. I was happy with you, completely bored out of my mind but still happy. Seeing you relaxed and content made me happy, even if you were making me totally crazy talking crock-pots and cooking with the neighbors."

"I liked it." He said solemnly. "I liked being boring normal and spending my time loving you. It is one of the few good times of my life. Thank you for those happy times, for some good memories."

"You gave me good memories too, and I've been sorry some days that I made you come back to the city. I'd have never lost my legs. Darhk would have never told me he'd taken your secret son, and you wouldn't have been able to make me this angry, by making the same stupid mistakes like lying to me over and over."

"Felicity, you didn't make me come back. I make my own choices."

"Yeah you do, just like you made a conscious decision to lie to me about your son."

"Check mate and we're back to square one. I can't change the lie."

"Oliver, you're one of the smartest men I've known but sometimes you need to rethink your decisions. Sometimes, I think what your life truly needs is a good rewrite or at least an intense edit, since you can't seem to stop repeating the same stupid mistakes, like not trusting me. Why can't you learn from your mistakes, Oliver?"

"I wish I were a book but I've never found life that easy, and you're wrong, Felicity, I've always trusted you, and believe me, I've learned from my mistakes." His words came out in a rush. "I've learned that once again I destroy everything I touch."

"You're lies destroyed our relationship. Keeping secrets from me again destroyed us. You're lack of trust destroyed us. You hurt me deeply, Oliver, especially when I realized you'd asked me not once but twice to marry you with that huge lie between us. You knew exactly what you were doing when you did that. You even wrote that you knew you were wrong."

Shutting his eyes, he absorbed her words, his jaw cringed hard, as her words washed over him.

"I know. I chose wrong and how many times do you want me to say I'm sorry, say I never meant to hurt you?"

"I don't know, maybe until you truly change? All I can see are the facts. I wanted to be your equal, Oliver, your partner, but you chose to leave me out of the loop." Her face looked pained. "How could you do that to me? To ME? What kind of relationship would we have if we build it on lies and secrets? How long before your lies killed my love, my trust, and we're at each other's throats?"

Opening his eyes, he searched for her eyes, seeking to connect with her, as his stomach knotted, his rage building, with the words, "You mean like right now? You're right as usual. I'm terrible at relationships. I destroy them. My parents were a terrible example of a loving relationship. They, hell my entire family, built all their relationships on lies, secrets, and half-truths and pretended our lives were perfect. Something that clearly doesn't work with you."

"You're right about that, and I don't think your family would have known the truth if it bit them. I do think this time the messed up relationship line forms behind me. Your and my parents, none of them knew how to have a healthy relationship. The only difference is not only did my father lie to my mother repeatedly, he didn't fight for me, no, he just left me alone. . . and now you're . . ."

"And now, I'm leaving too." He rubbed the back of his neck. "What do you want from me, Felicity?" His voice gained volume, "I made a bad choice, and I hurt you. I'm sorry but I can't change facts. Unlike Barry, I can't rewind and have another go at it. I have to go on. But, I'm good at surviving. And you'll survive this too. You'll move on. You'll . . ." He forced the words out and managed to say, "You'll find someone who'll love you without secrets or lies. You'll see in no time that my leaving is for the best."

"For the best? Grrr, do you try to make me mad? Listen to reason, Oliver. I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay. I want us to try again. What part of don't go don't you understand? We need to try again."

"If I stay then you'll commit to me? Agree to marry me?" Hope bubbled up in his chest but he shoved it down.

"I didn't say that. Baby steps. Date maybe? Learn to trust each other again."

He shut his eyes against the pain that swept through him as the hope died, and he reached for his mask to hide his agony.

"I understand. I wait in the wings, while you decide maybe today you'll let me back into your life. Thanks but no thanks. You can't have it both ways, Felicity. You've made it plain that you can't forgive me, and I'm not sure what you're suggesting here is another chance. I still don't have any hope. I can't stand this. Do you honestly expect me to keep asking for the pain? Or worse yet, do you expect me to keep watching you be in pain, knowing I'm hurting you by just being in your orbit?"

"I've never thought about it like that but no."

Her face fell.

Gentling his voice, he added, "It's going to be alright. I promise you. It's just change and change is hard on everyone. But you're strong, brilliant, funny, and have your super power brain. So use it. Find someone else. Guys will fall over themselves for you. I've seen it." He could barely get the words out as his chest ached just thinking about her with someone else. "Look, the dawn is breaking and we're talking circles here. Good bye."

Turned on his heel, he started for the door and she yelled after him, "You're not getting off that easy. And if you leave things will never be alright again." Her voice lowered, before she added, "Don't go, Oliver. I need you. I still love you. Don't you dare leave me alone, Oliver."

He kept walking but then she stopped him in his tracks, with the bitter words, "Leave and I'll hunt you. You know I will, and I'll find you. Trust me, Oliver, if you leave I'll find YOU! I won't stop looking until I find you."

Flipping around, he pointed a finger at her. "No, you will not. You need to understand I'm going underground, Felicity, and I don't want you to look for me. It would be too dangerous for you. Listen to me. DON'T LOOK FOR ME."

She glared at him. "How dare you? Once again you're making decisions for the two of us. And you think you're going back underground? What back to Bravta?"

"Forget I said that."

"And you try to lie to me again." Her words came out hard and clipped. "And as normal it doesn't matter what I want, does it? Let me remind you that YOU'RE not calling the shots here."

"I never said I was." His tone hard, he glared at her.

She closed the distance between then and poked her pointer finger into his hard chest with the words, "You're standing here once again making decisions for both of us. See no change. I've told you before that you're not my boss, Oliver."

And, he slowly closed his eyes before he reopened them, and he sighed before he said, "Okay, you're right. I'm not your boss. Okay, Felicity, I'm asking you not to look for me. I need you to be safe and looking for me in the Bravta underground is dangerous. And I won't be able to protect you. Promise me that you won't look for me there."

She sliced her hand through the air. "Then don't go there because what you need to understand is that not only will I look for you, Oliver Jonas Queen, I'll find you. I've told you before that I can't find the stop loving Oliver Queen button, which means you don't get to just disappear back into the darkness. I WON'T LET YOU!"

"I don't know what to do with you. You don't want me to leave. You won't accept my apology, and I've said I'm sorry over and over."

"You're sorry well I am too! I'm sorry you lied to me. I'm sorry we hurt each other. I'm sorry that you hurt me bad enough that I wanted to punish you and watch you squirm. And I'm truly sorry that love hurts both of us this much. But do you want do know what I'm not sorry for?"

He found her lovely blue eyes and shrugged slightly. "No."

"You. I'm not sorry I met you. I'm not sorry for most of the last four years. I'm not sorry for all the good times we've had together. I'm not even sorry for most of the bad. And I'm not sorry I love you."

His heart sped up. Softly, he said, "I'm not sorry I love you either. But I can't stay and keep doing this. We can't keep hurting each other, and you know how to hurt me best. You know exactly how to twist the knife. Please, Felicity, let me go. My leaving will give you time to heal, time to learn to go on with your life."

"Could you be a little more stubborn? How about hard headed? For weeks, you have wanted to get back together and now you want to break up? Think, would you please think about how you are self-destructing right before my eyes. Don't you want to be happy?"

And she bit her bottom lip and his chest ached, with her words, as the memory of him sucking her bottom lip in passion, filled his mind, as he wished desperately he could engulf her with his body and kiss her into obligation and make them both of them feel better, and everything would be good between them again. He ached to go back to when their relationship had been good and this fight would be over, and right now they'd have been in bed, making awesome makeup love.

Damn her for being smart as the need clawed at him but he knew kissing her wouldn't make this go away since she was smarter than that. Yes, Felicity was hardly the type to kiss and forget.

Forcing himself, he tore his gaze away from her, and he found a spot to focus on out the window, a dark spot, void of light, as he took a deep breath and assured her in a quiet voice, "I'm thinking that it'll be for the best. I'm thinking I don't deserve to be happy, not with my past. I'm thinking what we both know."

"Which is?"

He forced the words past the lump in his throat. "That even if we try again, I'll just mess us up again. I'll kill your love, destroy us just like I've destroyed everything good in my life."

"Yeah, that's probably true, since you excel at making bad choices. Just like right now."

"Maybe I am making another bad choice but look at both sides of this. After you have time to think about it, you'll see that you don't want me to stay. You gave me back my ring and ended us. You walked away from working with the team. Okay, I understand I hurt you, that I did you wrong, but I can't stay if I can't be with you. I can't go back to seeing you and not having you. I can't. I'll hurt the next man that touches you in front of me." His voice held a desperate tone.

"I realize after reading your journal how much my being with Ray hurt you. But we don't have to go there, Oliver, since that was your fault. If you would have just reached out for me, but no, just like now, you don't want to reach. But I do. I want to figure out how to try to find us again. If you could learn to lean on me a little bit, Oliver, it would help. Learn how to reach out."

She caught his eyes and he felt them totally, finally, instantly connect. Yes, they clicked, like a key in a lock, like a switch being thrown. Like always, he talked better with his eyes than with his mouth, for words came hard for him but the electricity coursed solidly between them, the charge flowed between them as he told her his sorrow, how he found himself lost, and he begged her with his eyes to please let him go and that's when she severed the connection between them but he saw the pain showing clearly in her eyes.

Sighing deeply, he averted his glaze and looked out the window again, looked out into the darkness before he said the words, "I'd like to lean, Felicity, but I'm afraid. You've read my journal and now you know why it's hard for me to trust other people."

"But there's no reason for you not to trust me, Oliver. I've stood by you and kept your secrets."

"I know that but I've learned to depend on me to survive, because when I've leaned on someone, they've disappeared and a lot of time I needed stitches afterward." Memories assaulted him with the words.

"And you probably put them in yourself, huh? Oliver, look at me."

Giving a sharp nod, he took in her small smile and his stomach knotted as she tried again to meet his eyes, but this time he didn't dare look, couldn't look. No, his pain lay shimmering on the surface, and he found himself spiraling out of control here.

"Oliver, I don't know how to fix us. I don't have all the answers," she said softly.

"I don't either. But you're wrong Felicity you haven't always stood by me. More than once you've turned your back on me and walked away leaving me alone."

"I've had reasons. You cut me to the quick when you didn't trust me enough to share your child with me. You found out you had a son and you let Darhk tell me?"

"I never thought you would find out that way. I'm sorry for that."

Holding her head high, she said, "I don't think I've ever been that hurt. I cursed you after I realized that you'd been sneaking off for months to see a child that you didn't share with me. How could you not tell me?"

Her voice broke and he pushed back the pain in his chest, distanced himself from the pain and said, "I wanted to tell you. I wanted to share."

"But you didn't. Here I thought you and I were soul mates and you didn't tell me about your son? You didn't include me? You excluded me? Talk about hurting me. How could you do that to me? That's one reason why I'm finding it hard to forgive you, Oliver. How could you do that to me?"

He chanced it and caught her eyes again, and he realized her eyes shown bright with unshed tears. And it took everything he possessed not to scoop her up and comfort her, not to pull her close, to somehow connect with her again, while wishing somehow everything could be good between them again.

But, instead, he reached and rubbed the back of his neck again, then scrubbed his face with his hands before he said in a desperate tone, "What do you want me to say, Felicity? I don't know what you want me to say anymore. I'm lost. I wrote you because I can't get the words out of my mouth, but one thing I know is I'm tired of walking on egg shells around you. I can't live like this. I can't keep doing this. I wish we could somehow start over. I wish I could say hi, I'm Oliver Queen, nice to meet you." And he couldn't stop himself as he flashed his small winning smile at her.

She sighed deeply, before she gave him a small light filled smile before she said, "I wish it could be that easy. I'd love to say my name's Felicity Smoak and smile back at you and chew on a red pen. And, I wish we could. I want to, Oliver, but where do we go on from here? How do we fix us? Should we date? Do I move back in? Do we pretend this never happened?"

Her ever moving hands gave a small wave.

"I like that. Yeah, I'd like that a lot, which means it's not going to happen." His heart raced and he rolled his neck a bit, his body tensing.

"No, we both know that wouldn't work. I might be blonde, Oliver, but I'm not that blonde and remember I dye it."

She pointed a pink fingernail at her hair, with a grin, and he couldn't suppress his slight smile.

"I'd love you no matter your true hair color. But, yeah, we both know pretending this breakup didn't happen would never work. You're too smart for that." And once again his eyes caught hers, and they clicked and connected and a charge flashed between them as his heart skipped a beat, as the butterflies attacked his stomach.

A tiny smile lit her face. "And you are too. And if I let you get away with that, you would just go back to being LYING OLIVER and nothing would change. And we need change, if we're going to survive as an US, we both have to change or there's no hope for us. And we need hope, Oliver, we truly need hope to fix us."

Once more, she took another small step toward him, and he took a small step. He moved a tiny bit toward her, with the careful words, "I could use some hope. But how do we find it?"

"First you have to believe that I want you to stay with me. You have to trust me and be truthful. Let's start with, Oliver, do you truly want to leave me?"

"No." He said the word quietly, with a shake of his head. "I don't want to leave, but I don't want to keep hurting you, keep making you angry, and keep causing my darkness to taint you. I'd like to fix us. I miss you terribly and want you to come home."

Her tiny smile fell from her face before she said, "I'd like to come home, Oliver. Yeah, I guess that's why I came rushing over here in my PJ's. I'm still fracking totally mad at you, but I don't want you to leave me. I can't let you leave and go back to the darkness, without a phone or a tracker. What were you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that you don't know now how hard I've tried to turn off loving you, how hard I fought not to feel for you? You've been making me crazy for years, Felicity. And the last six weeks have been a walking nightmare."

"Ditto, for no matter how hard I look, I can't seem to power my love for you down, trust me I've tried. I've tried a lot in the last six weeks, so I want to try loving you again." And she reached out her tiny hand for him, with the words, "Meet me half way? Reach out, Oliver."

He stilled his hand by fisting it to keep from reaching. Heavens knew he wanted to reach, wanted to have another chance but experience held him back. Instead, his eyes found her eyes as they connected, and he poured his hope into his look and she answered him with a tiny nod, her light filled smile, and the single word, "Lean."

Cringing, he reached with his heart beating hard in his chest, and his blood roaring in his ears, as he reached his bandaged hand out and stepped toward her before he clasped her small hand, touching her for the first time in what seemed like ages.

"Come on, Oliver, let me see what you've done to your hands."

"Felicity, I think you're about to get angry again."

"Probably, but come on anyway. I'm strong. I can handle it." And she pulled him toward the kitchen as dread filled him.

#####OQ######

Thoughts, reviews? Come on people, talk to me.


	5. Chapter 5

Her words were as soft as her hands as he allowed her to pull him into the kitchen. Standing by the bar, she began removing his haphazard bandages, as she scolded him.

"Were you thinking at all when you did this?"

Exhaling, he shut his eyes, hoping now was real, that he hadn't nodded off as he'd sat Indian style on the cold bathroom floor mediating after he'd destroying his phone and dreamed her here. Unable to help himself, he reached and almost touched her shoulder, but instead he stilled his hand and touched the bar's cool countertop as she continued to reprimand him.

"I don't how you've survived everything that's happened to you. You did a terrible job with these bandages. Why didn't you let John help you wrap your hands up?"

"He offered. But I refused his help. I need to learn to doctor myself."

"Because you plan to be alone again?"

Looking, at his shoes, he shrugged, refusing to answer her.

Pulling the last bandage back from his hand, she inhaled sharply, and he instinctively jerked his hand back, needing to hide the damage he'd inflected on himself, by beating his hands into a bloody, bruised mess.

"Let me see that hand." She seized his battered hand, inspecting it closely, her forehead wrinkling and her displeasure clear.

"You fool. Ice, you need ice. Right, NOW! Frack, Oliver, your hand, your poor hand. Does the other one look this bad?"

Looking away, he thought that his left hand probably looked worse than his right, but he said, "It's nothing. They'll heal. It will toughen them up again. I need to toughen them up again."

"Toughen them up? Nothing? This mess is hardly nothing. Ick, your hand's still oozing blood and you did this when? How many hours ago?" She gagged before she recovered with the words, "Oliver, are you trying to cripple yourself? No way could you pull a bow with your hand like this. What if you needed to defend yourself? How'd you do this? What did you hit? A brick wall repeatedly? What the frack were you thinking? And why would you need to toughen your hands up?"

Turning his head, he stared at a spot on the wall and swallowed hard. Quickly, she released his hand and turned, pulling a bag of frozen peas and a bag of frozen corn from the freezer.

"Sit, Oliver," she demanded, pushing him toward the table, forcing him into a chair. Reaching out, she grabbed his unwrapped hand and rested his hand, knuckles up on the table. Unable to help himself, he relished her soft hands on his bruised and battered flesh, even though he winced and grimaced, as she settled the bag of frozen peas on his injured hand.

"Give me your other hand. Let me see what you've done. Geez, Oliver, have you taken anything for the pain?"

Ducking his head, he hardened his face, but his stomach knotted, knowing he'd purposely hurt himself, knowing he hadn't been able to stop, that he hadn't wanted to stop, no, he'd wanted to keep hitting and hitting, and his stomach churned.

"No, but I don't want anything. Don't worry, my hands will heal, Felicity. If you've read my journal, you know sometimes, I like the pain. I need the pain sometimes. It helps me cope. And I'm glad I gave you that notebook because now I can say that out loud."

"Well the truth will set you free." Slowly, she unwrapped his other hand. "And news flash, I knew that about you before I read your journal. I've watched you hunt the pain when we first met, though I haven't known you to hurt yourself in a long while."

"You're right; I haven't needed the pain in a long time."

"It's good to hear you admit the truth, Oliver. Now, since we're clearing the air here, don't use the word 'fine' around me ever again. I detest that word coming out of your mouth."

"What's wrong with the word 'fine'?"

He jerked his hand back. "Ouch, easy. The bandage's stuck and pulling."

"I'm not trying to hurt you here. Frack, Oliver, you're the one who beat your hands up. And yeah, don't say the word 'fine' to me, ever again. I hate that word coming out of your mouth."

Reaching out, she pulled his hand back and went back to work on his bandages.

"Why? OUCH. Careful." He inhaled sharply with the words, "and that's my left hand, so it hurts worse than my right. Grrr. . . Easy."

"Breathe deeply. Of course it does since you're right handed. Why would this hand hurt more? It makes perfect sense you'd hit harder with your LEFT hand. Oh, how you make me crazy with the way you think sometimes." She frowned at him with the words, "And fine's your go to word when you're martyring yourself, when you're planning to die, Oliver."

She jerked the bandage and he inhaled sharply with the word, "EASY!"

"What happened to you liking the pain?" But, she carefully, cautiously peeled his dressings off his battered knuckles.

"Well, right now that darn hand aches like a bad toothache. And that's NOT true about the word 'fine.' I'm not martyring myself, though you're right about me favoring my left hand, since most people tend to favor their right hand so they never see my left coming."

Bracing, himself, he flinched as she pulled his next to last bandages off and the gauze stuck and jerked his battered flesh.

Tenderly, she carefully lifted his beaten and bruised knuckles to her mouth and slowly pressed an easy kiss to the back of his hand and his heart contacted tightly, hurt him, as the butterflies savagely attacked his stomach, but he stopped himself from engulfing her with his body, resisted the urge to touch her, and trembled as he clinched his fist to stop himself from reaching, holding himself back.

"Inhale and brace yourself, Oliver. I'm going to take the last bandage off. And believe me, it's going to hurt."

Gritting his teeth, he found her eyes and said sharply, "Do it."

With no warning, she moved and kissed him, while she ripped the bandage off, and he shuttered as she stuck her hot tongue into his mouth and thankfully distracted him from the pain as he thought YES her touch was what he needed.

Oh, how her blazing touch melted any resistance he had to kissing her in a flash of blazing feelings.

Carding her hands through his hair, she scorched his skin as he inhaled sharply, and he abandoned the frozen veggies, as his hands pulled her toward him. Swiftly, he captured her willing lips and kissed her hard, pouring all those long weeks of longing into one hot kiss until she pushed away from him, groaning the words, "STOP. We have to stop. This fixes nothing. Feels wonderful but sex doesn't solve our problems."

Ripping his lips from hers, he stuck his nose in her neck and inhaled her scent with the words, "But it's a place to begin. I NEED YOU, oh, I want you, NOW!"

"No, Oliver. It would be the wrong place to start."

She took his head in her hands and urged his head up, running her thumbs across his scruff and making his chest tighten.

"Then stop touching me. Or I'm not going to be responsible for my actions."

Slowly, he leaned his forehead into hers, pressing his skin into hers, blending them, and she leaned into his forehead, before she broke the contact and took a step back.

"Hands, your hands. I have to take care of your hands."

Reaching out, she replaced the frozen peas on his right hand then looked at his other hand again. "Your left hand looks like ground beef. And back to the word, fine. Don't say it to me. Fine is the word you use when you're in self-destruct mode. Don't use that word around me ever again."

"What exactly did you and John talk about?"

"You! What else would we talk about when John found you beating your hands into a battered mess. John's your friend and he's concerned that you losing it and now I see why.

Are you sure something's not broken in your hand?"

"I don't think so. And John should keep his mouth shut. I'm coping."

"Really." She rolled her eyes at him. "NO, YOUR NOT. You call this coping? Stop lying! I don't think so."

"I am."

"Like you're the expert? Look at your hands. I'm beginning to think you need x-rays. This hand's terribly bruised. It looks awful."

Her voice rose.

"What were you thinking? Are you trying to cripple yourself? If you want to start over with me tell me the truth. HOW DID YOU DO THIS TO YOUR HANDS?"

He swallowed hard and looked out the window into the darkness.

Taking a deep breath, he refused to look in her eyes before he said, "I admit that I hit the practice dummy a long time."

Watching, he noted she'd shut her eyes, that she'd shook her blond head before she sighed and said, "Oliver, I've seen you hit that dummy for years, but I've never seen you bust up your hands up like this. Talk to me. Tell me the truth! Did you hit a brick wall or what?"

Hesitating, he knew she wouldn't like the truth, but with little to lose, he said, "No, I just hit the dummy over and over, but I admit I'd reached the place where I couldn't stop anymore. And, do you want the truth? I didn't want to stop. NO, I needed the pain, and I found it when I'd managed to reach the zone."

"The zone?"

She reached and placed the bag of frozen corn on his left hand, and he winced and wondered if maybe he'd truly broken something this time.

"Yeah, the place I go when I don't feel any more. I hit. I punch but I don't feel. I zone out. I just do, and I hit harder and harder."

"Go on."

"I . . ." he forced the words out, "I just exist, nothing more or less. I'm here but not here. I've gone somewhere else, somewhere in my head, and I truly don't know how long I'd punched the dummy."

"Too long, I'd say."

"Yeah, maybe." His headache pounded behind his left eye, and he wished this conversation could be over.

"Oh, Oliver. I pushed you to do this didn't I? I pushed you to hit until your hands were bleeding and bruised. This is how you dealt with your emotions wasn't it? You've regressed to the Oliver I met in the beginning. The one who wouldn't let anyone close enough to make you feel, the one that liked the pain and actively searched for it."

"No, I . . ." She gave him that 'you're talking bullshit' look and he said, "Alright, maybe, I don't know? All I'm sure of, is you threw me and my fern out of your office. You had me escorted out no less, and I ached to punch something."

"I was angry with you. You don't listen to me. I told you repeatedly to leave me alone. But no, you think you can swoop in, smile your awesome smile and I'll forgive you. And I'll admit I wanted to hurt you because every time I saw you, I wanted to forgive you and it made me mad at not just you but myself. That stupid smile of yours is my downfall don't you know that?"

"You're my downfall, Felicity. And your plan to hurt me worked like a charm. After you threw me out of the building, I could barely breathe for the pain inside me, and I needed to punch something, and I didn't want to go on patrol and hit someone."

"Good choice. You could have killed someone."

He forced the words out, "I realized I didn't need to go out. So, I chose to hit the dummy instead, and then the next thing I knew, John stood there yelling at me to stop and my hands were bleeding everywhere. But, I still didn't want to stop, and I had problems stopping myself. John even chanced touching me because I wouldn't listen to him."

"Thank goodness John stopped you. Did you hit him because know knowing you, you took a swing at him."

He couldn't stop the slight smile. Oh, how she had him pegged. "Yeah, I did, but no, he evaded. He's on top of his game."

"Gotta love Dig. Of course, he is." She narrowed her eyes and gave him her practiced "don't you dare lie to me look" as she crossed her arms in front of her chest and said, "Go on."

"Alright, I admit it. I needed to hit something, wanted to mash something and needed the pain. Felicity, I found myself drowning inside. And I know I should be ashamed for not coping better. But since you read my notebook, you know I'm used to pain. I've seen a lot of it, and I know it's terrible, that it shouldn't, but, yeah, sometimes pain makes me feel better when I hurt inside."

"Oh, but hurting yourself doesn't make you feel better for long does it?"

"No, but it makes me feel better at least a little while, since pain and I, we're old friends." Again, he looked at his shoes.

"And you try to tell me that you don't have PTSD?"

"Stop saying those letters."

"Stop self-destructing then!" She leaned into him and jabbed her sharp painted finger into his chest repeatedly.

"I'm not," his heart pounded in his ears and his chest felt tight as he pulled his hand from the frozen veggies and stopped that sharp little finger.

"And you lie to me. Oh, how did I fall for a man who acts like my father?"

She jerked her hand away from him and he released her, with the bitter words, "I'm not your father, Felicity. Don't compare me to the man that abandoned you as a child."

"News flash, my mother has also been lying. She ran away from him and hid the truth all these years. But the last thing I want to talk about is them. What I want to know is how YOU can say you love me and then abandon me without looking back?"

"I'm not . . . I'm just. . ." He hesitated. What should he say, that he needed to make breaking up with her easier on him?

"You're not leaving me then?"

The smile she gave him held one hundred watts and gave him butterflies in his stomach.

"Damn it, Felicity, you broke up with me. It's not fair blaming me." He cut the air with his hand. "Look, I'm not your father and your daddy issues are driving me crazy. And yeah, I still should leave you but I don't want to. Please, Felicity, give me a reason not to leave you, give a reason to stay. I need a reason."

Her eyes burned into his. "I'll give you more than one. Because I love you, Oliver, and you love me."

Looking down, he broke the contact and said softly, "Do you? I sure haven't been feeling much love lately."

"I do love you, Oliver. But no more hurting yourself, promise me? No more hunting the pain." Her hand touched his cheek and his stomach plummeted.

He couldn't stop himself. Leaning into her touch, he said, "I'd thought I'd moved past needing the pain." Looking down at her, he refused to meet her eyes, as he pulled his other battered hand from out from under the frozen vegetables, and looked at what he'd done. "I haven't hurt myself in a very long time until, well, today." His eyes found hers. "Felicity, I need you to keep me grounded."

"Shh . . . , " she reached and smoothed his face, touching his mole with the words, " And, I need you too. Now, let's put the frozen veggies back on your hands at least ten minutes. But I want you to promise me that you won't do this ever again."

"I don't think I can. I can promise I'll try to never do it again. But I'm human, Felicity. I'm going to make mistakes."

"I know that and at least, that's a start." She replaced the ice packs on his hands, and he watched her frown and nibble her bottom lip. A clear Felicity sign that she had something important to say but was trying to hold back the words, which of course, she couldn't.

Finally, she cleared her throat and said, "After reading your notebook, I at least understand why you would do something like this to yourself. You've seen a lot of pain in the last eight years. The things you've seen, Oliver. I mean . . . I'm surprised you've survived. I've . . ."

He waited for her to finish, but when she didn't, he attempted to judge her face but came up empty, as his stomach tightened and he said in a harsh tone, "Frankly, I expected more of a reaction from you, once you knew the truth about me. Why don't you go ahead and say it. I'm a monster, so go on call me on my darkness."

Her intense blue eyes found his, but he broke the eye contact.

"Stop saying that. I don't believe you. You're NOT a monster, Oliver, because you know you're a hero in my eyes. You always have been but that's not what I love about you. Come on, look at me, Oliver. Look up here."

She pointed at her blue eyes.

Forcing himself, he stared into her deep blue eyes, as she said, "Truly, Oliver, when you first walked into my office, your sad bottomless blue eyes first pulled me in, that and your tiny reluctant smile. You have an awesome smile and those days you hardly smiled at all. If I got a smile out of you, I felt like I'd hit the jackpot on the slots."

A small laugh escaped him and he gave her a smile with the words, "You're right. I don't think I'd smiled at all until I met you. You were funny, cute and smart, and you could always make me smile against my will. I found myself amused against my will while I waited to see what you would say or do next."

Once again her eyes found him and the moment turned golden, as she went on, "And if you decide you truly want to talk about what you wrote in your journal, about those times in your life, I'm more than willing, but right now I'm exhausted and I can tell you are too. What I am more interested in is coffee and some breakfast. I'm hungry. What about you? When's the last time you ate?"

Relief rushed though him as he realized, she'd just handed him an opportunity to escape this conversation. And if she didn't want to talk about him hurting himself or the things she'd learned about him right now, if she would willing to let this conversation go, oh, he'd gladly let this conversation go. His words came out rushed. "I ate yesterday, maybe? I haven't been hungry."

Her eyes smiled brightly back at him and his stomach plummeted, adrenaline rushing through him like he'd bailed out of an airplane. Oh, how, she pulled at his heartstrings without even trying.

Heaven help him if she ever actually tried since he'd be totally lost.

"Sounds like you need to eat then. We, both should eat. But you know I can't cook and there's not much take out this time of day." And she gave him a slight smile and a wink, and unable to help himself, he grinned a tiny bit back at her.

Watching her face, he'd inhaled sharply before he said, "I'll cook. Omelets work for you?"

"Yeah. I'd love that after you've iced your hands at least five more minutes." She moved and opened the cabinet door and pulled out the first aid kit. As he watched, she opened the kit and pulled out salve, bandages and tape before she sniffed and swallowed hard. Unexpectedly, her hand reached and wiped across her cheek and his heart ached, knowing he'd caused her pain.

"Felicity, come here."

He dumped the ice packs again and reached and pulled her against his solid chest and into his hard lap. Inhaling her scent, he sighed longingly, as she buried her face in his broad chest and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

Unbidden, he couldn't stop his constricting heart, while something bubbled up in the middle of his chest, as she trembled and shook in his arms. "We're such a train wreck, Oliver."

"Shh, we're going to be okay." He pleaded gruffly, his heart imploding, as he wrapped his arms solidly around her, hugging her close. "Shh, don't cry, Felicity. You're hurting me. You're making me want to hit something again hard. Shh. . . now. It's going to be fine, I mean alright. I understand you don't like that word, and I'm trying not to say it, to change."

"I'm not crying, truly I'm not." She sniffed as her tiny body shook and trembled in his arms, and she turned her head into his broad chest, pressing her wet face solidly against his chest.

"Of course, you're not. You never cry."

But he knew better, as he cradled her head against his chest and rocked them both back and forth. And she held on to him tightly, welcoming him by pulling him closer and making his chest constrict tightly, while her scent surrounded him. Oh, how he loved the way she smelled. Her scent always reminded him of a spring morning after a rain, everything fresh washed and looking new.

"I've missed you, Oliver." She dashed her tears away with the back of her hand.

"And I've missed you desperately."

Her arms tightened, banded around him as she sobbed the words, giving a hiccup, "Geez, your poor hands, Oliver, I caused you to hurt your hands because I wanted to get even with you."

He latched on to her, drawing her to him, pulling her close, his body pressing solidly against hers. "It's not your fault. It's mine. I made the choice to hurt myself. Don't blame yourself. This is my fault."

She pushed against him with the words, "But you can blame yourself? Look, I was being mean to you on purpose, getting even. What are we going to do, Oliver? We're toxic to each other, but I can't let you go. You make me feel like I'm out of control, and now you've hurt yourself because of me. How do we find our way back?"

"I don't know. All I know is we try again, Felicity. Please, let's just try again? I don't have the answers, but I know I don't want to lose you. I know I need you, Felicity. Please, come home to me. You're my home, and I need you to come back and be my home. I don't want to lose you. I miss you terribly."

"I want to but I don't know how. We keep hurting each other." She buried her head deeper into his chest, with the words, "I can hardly sleep without you. I've missed you dearly. Oliver, I ache for you, need you. But how do we find our way back to good?"

His hands pulled her closer, engulfing her, as he said, "I wish I knew. But I do know that we're better together than apart. And I've miss you dreadfully. Come back, Felicity, and I swear I'll never let you go again. I want, no I need a total commitment from both of us."

"And, I don't know if I can commit. What a mess." Her voice came out small, and she shuttered in his arms.

"Shh. . .Yes, you can. Look at me, Felicity." He tipped her face up and looked into her bright eyes. Carefully, using his thumbs, he wiped her tears off her face, with the words, "We can do this. I swear we can do this. We can stay together, for better or worse for as long as we live. We might fight but we won't give up. And you'll promise me that you won't leave me every time I make a mistake."

She pulled away from him, with the words. "And we both know you excel at making mistakes, and I guess I make mistakes too. But I need to know that you won't leave me either. I need to know that no matter what you will stay with me?"

"I promise I will stand beside you until I draw my last breath. I promise you if you come back, I'll fully commit to our relationship. We will stay together. But, I need to know that you'll stay with me. I swear that together, we'll fight to work it out and stay together, even if just like now, we don't know how. But I need you to promise me you'll never walk away from me again. We'll fight and then we'll make up and figure out how to try again as a team, as partners."

She reached and pulled him closer. "But you don't know how to fight, don't know how to argue. Oliver, I yell and you take it. You completely shut down. We have to change, have to learn to communicate better. We need to learn not keep secrets from each other." With a catch in her throat, her hands massaging his tortured flesh, she said, "And I didn't know I could be truly mean to you, but I found out that I can. I've been horrible to you lately. I want you to know that I didn't mean what I said about Laurel's death being your fault. I'm sorry I blamed you."

"I know you said that in anger, and I'll admit I'm not good at arguing but I've bared my soul to you, Felicity. No one knows the things you know about me. I've trusted you with my life, with my words. What else can I do? Do you want me to yell? Okay, I can try to yell more. Please, let's try again. Let's give us another chance."

"Then prove you want it. Trust me enough to tell me what you're planning to do if you leave this morning? I know you always have a plan, Oliver. You want to start over with me then no secrets or lies. For once in your life, Oliver, give me full disclosure."

Breathing out through his nose, his mind scrambled to figure out what to say as his headache truly pounded. He grimaced as she demanded, "Come on, Oliver, don't waste time, stop thinking up the best answer. Remember, I've read your journal. What are you planning?"

He inhaled sharply before he said slowly, "I have a choice. Lyla can put me back to work undercover. She can give me a job or I can leave." But the real truth didn't want to come out of his mouth.

"Let me up, Oliver, you're still lying to me. Nothing's changed. I'm beginning to think you don't know how to tell the truth. Once again you're acting like my lying father."

"You want me to fight back. Felicity, I will. I'm not your father, stop comparing me to him. And, I do know how to tell the TRUTH. It's just hard because I know I'm going to disappoint you. And, I hate disappointing you."

She pushed hard against his chest. But he refused to release her, for try as he might, the thought of leaving her hurt him, made him feel lost, and living his life without her seemed impossible. So, unable to stop himself, he held her to him.

"Grr. . . let me go. How dare you hold me down? LET ME UP! I made a mistake coming here since as usual nothing's changed. Same old, lying Oliver, telling me what you think I want to hear and making the decisions, the choices. Do you trust me or include me? NO you tell me what to you want me to know. Frack you, let me up, Oliver Queen, and I mean right now."

And she struggled to get up off his lap, pushed hard against his chest but he hauled her back with the words, "No, wait, alright. You want the truth? I'll give you the truth." He hissed the words into her ear, "I'll tell you." His voice rose as he said, "I planned to return to the illegal fight clubs, to go back into the ring, go back to bare knuckle fighting."

"Where? Bratva? Russia? I don't understand. Fight clubs where you don't use gloves to fight? The one you wrote about?"

"Yes, back to bare knuckle fighting. And no gloves, people like the blood that comes from hitting bone though it's is hard on the hands. It busts the skin from the brute force, which is why I need to toughen my hands up."

"Oliver, you can't be seriously considering this."

"I need supplies and there's good money in fighting and gambling on the matches. I can earn a lot of money fast."

"You just have to be willing to be brutal, right? Geez, Oliver, you hurt your hands on purpose, didn't you? This was premeditated, wasn't it?"

"Maybe? I didn't start out to bust my hands up but the longer I hit the more it seemed right. You want'd to see the dark inside me, the real me? Well there it is. I'm still a monster inside, Felicity. You were right when you said I'm standing on an edge. I'm almost lost. I'm going back to killing, going back to bare knuckle fighting and going back into the darkness. I'm willing to do whatever has to be done. I'll kill or be killed and then I'll travel to Africa to fight against the ones doing the genocide. I can still help people in the time I have left. I can still make a difference."

"In the time you have left? What until someone kills you? Until someone shoots you in the head? They use machine guns you know? You're awesome with a bow and arrow but that won't stop a bullet. Oliver, you can't do that."

"I can and I will. Don't you understand that I'm lost without you, Felicity? After what we've been through, after the last four years, you're my reason to live, and I have no reason to stay here without you."

"You're not lost, yet. I refuse to believe that. I read your notebook and I know you've been afraid I would leave you if I knew about the darkness inside of you, okay I understand that. But you need to remember it was a lie, the not trusting me, not the dark, that drove me away. Now finish it. What else are you planning to do, Oliver?"

He shut his eyes and exhaled sharply, his chest achy and tight, his head pounding as his quiet words came out, "I planned to push until someone either killed me in a fight or put a bullet in my head. I planned not to stop pushing until someone put me down . . . permanently. I said you would survive this break up not I would."

"Oh, Oliver, NO you don't mean that."

"I do, Felicity, I can't live with this pain inside me, and I had no hope left that you'd forgive me and give me another chance. And, I know you wouldn't like it, would expect more from me, but I planned to . . ." He put his nose in her hair and inhaled, as he reached and pulled her against him, as he tightened his hold on her, and finished his sentence.

"Alright, I planned to die. Is that what you wanted to hear? That's the truth. Once again, I'm planning to die. If I can't have you, I can't survive. I don't want to survive. And I have to end the pain I'm in. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No," she said quietly, her hands rubbing tiny circles on his chest, making him exhale sharply as her tiny hot hands crept under his shirt and found his bare skin, and touched his scarred back, with the words, "I wanted to hear that you would get over me and go on like a normal person. But when have you ever been normal?"

"Point taken." Yet, he couldn't stop touching her, couldn't stop breathing her scent in. Unbidden, he began to harden and quickly lost the good fight as his jeans tightened and pressed against him becoming uncomfortable.

"And I knew that about you since that's your thing. How many times have you planned to die in the last few years? Merlyn, Slade and then Ra's and your stupid I'll blow up the plane I'm on idea. Always, you were hunting death. But yes, Oliver that's what I wanted to hear, the ugly truth. Thank you, since you finally trusted me with the truth."

"Do I get an A, then?" He couldn't stop the small grin.

"Guess there's a first time for everything." She quipped as she added, with a light filled smile, "No, you get an A plus. Now what are we going to do about it?"

"Kiss and make up, maybe?" His words came out gravely and rough, his eyes trying to leak, and he blinked rapidly.

"Yeah, I guess that's a place to start." As she reached and pulled his lips down to hers, kissing him hard.

Oh, how he wanted her.

And, he went willingly, with the words, "I need you too. I miss you. Oh, yes, touch me. You make me feel. You've taught me how to feel and now I can't turn it off, and I've missed you terribly. Let me touch you."

And he stood and carried her toward the stairs with his heart beating almost out of his chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Wait," she pulled back, "your hands. They need ice!"

"Later, I need you now. Later, I'll fix my hands but for now I want, no, I need you to touch me. I have to touch you. Do you know how long it's been?" He climbed the loft's stairs and headed them toward what had been their bedroom.

"Oh, yes," she said, "I know to the hour. I've done the math every day since you've been gone. I've missed you too, Oliver," she said as he laid her carefully on the bed, and she attacked him, and he allowed her to roll him to his back.

Yes, he gladly gave up his control as she climbed on top of him and his eyes leaked then watered, as he realized it'd been months since she could straddle him, since she could crawl on top of him. And he loved that she could take control, especially after he'd thought and believed that she would never be able to use her legs ever again, that Darlk had taken that from both of them.

And his foolish raw emotions threatened to overpower him as he trembled, as he quickly became totally unwound beneath her hot hands.

Her hot mouth moved on his lips, softening, touching him, tenderly moving against his mouth as they both gentled, sipping each other like fine wine.

Heavens, he bathed willingly in the fire that was her.

Out of control, his hand trembled as he traced her face gently with his fingertips, as he memorized her, and shut his eyes, for an instant as he worshiped her skin, with the soft words, "I thought I'd never have this again."

He inhaled sharply as she thrust her tongue desperately into his mouth, and he returned the gesture, by sucking on her tongue and desire clawed violently at his gut, with razor sharp nails urging him on, urging him to hurry, but he held back, and savored her.

Unhurriedly, her hands and mouth slowly moved on him, and he answered her careful call with measured touches.

But, how he wanted her. How he past wanted her. Yet, if he didn't reign in this time would be over quick and he knew it. No way could he wait much longer. He needed her NOW. Hell, he needed her yesterday, needed her weeks ago.

Ruthlessly, he tried to find his rigid control, but as normal when it came to her, he found controlling himself hard, almost next to impossible.

But, still he didn't rush and neither did she, as he relished each touch, each sigh, every part of her, even if it pained him, hurt him as he held back from her.

Clothes quickly disappeared and her hot skin scorched his skin, both of them hot and bothered, and beyond sweaty.

Yet, he realized that he needed her skin.

It was all he could think about.

Cautiously, she rubbed her hand across his chest, as she found his nipples, his abs, and her mouth moved downward, as she slowly, causally, kissed each of his chest scars and pulled him close to her.

His eyes continued to leak, as she assured him without words that his scars didn't bother her, that she'd accepted his scars as part of him, and they weren't influencing her emotions.

In return, breathing hard, like he'd ran a race, he flipped her to her back, as he took her past high, as her hands pulled him to her as he proudly licked, kissed and, yes, nipped her into ecstasy, but he'd refused himself, holding himself and his own pleasure back.

But then she came and he found that the playing was over as she jerked him roughly closer.

In a move, that made him proud, she flipped them over, and he let her.

Quickly, she mounted him and she took him higher, took him past higher. Oh, how she touched him, burned him up from the inside out, and he rushed to meet her.

Eyes blazing, plugged directly into his, she softly swiped her thumb across his bottom lip, and she stole his breath as she slowed the pace, making him grit his teeth to hold back, as she slowly lowered herself down on him unhurriedly, but he wanted to hurry, need to rush and unbidden his eyes rolled back in his head against his will.

He groaned savagely as she took total possession of him. Growling low in his throat, he could barely hold on as she set a slow pace stealing his rigid control.

"You're killing me."

"Here, Oliver, look at me." She demanded, catching his eyes, as her hands clutched him brutally to her. One, yeah, maybe both of them would have bruises tomorrow as both of them pulled and clutched each other. "I want to see the real you. Show me the real you, Oliver. Don't hide from me anymore. Here. Look here! Be with me. Hold, hold on to me."

"I'm here. Trust me, I'm right here with you. I love you," he said gruffly, savagely, as he reached pulling her toward him, their eyes locking, as they made eye love, as they had total eye sex, as he said things with his eyes, he could never say with words. And he experienced the rush of emotion as they connected on some wordless level while their bodies rushed forcefully forward. Struggling by a thread to hold on, he found his breath harsh and his spine tingled desperately, as he fought to hold back, fought to not cum.

Groaning deeply, he broke the eye contact with her, yet, he moaned from the loss, with the words, "Let go, Felicity. Cum for me, I'm going to cum. I can't wait anymore. Now, Felicity, right now, I'm a little unsteady. I'm going to explode."

His hand reached and found her hard clit and rubbed her stiff nub, and she screamed sharply, gasped loudly, her head snapping back, before she breathlessly cried out his name, and tightened on him, milked him, as his body rushed forward, brutal now, no doubt bruising her, but not caring, too aching and needy for her as he surged forward, driving into her.

Unable to help himself, unable to stop himself and unable to hold himself back, he flipped them over. Breathing hard, he hurried, no he rushed, no he slammed hard into her as he pushed deeply forward, panting, sloppy now, losing his rhythm as he hurried lost to the feeling, past lost to the sharp jagged edged need of his lust.

Yet, her hands pulled him closer to her, with the words, "Let go, Oliver. Trust me, I have you. You're mine. NOW! More, give me you. I NEED YOU NOW!"

And she tightened on him and arched her back as she again found her release, and he scarcely held on as she came.

Gasping, pulsing, barely holding on, needing to cum, he gave his love to her as he completely filled her, as he let go and emptied himself into her, exploding inside, as he found himself not knowing or caring where his body began or ended, as he became mindless and gloried in the feelings only she'd ever created in him, the feeling of totally connecting with another person, the feeling that was his Felicity.

"Yes," he moaned the word into her neck, gasping, panting, and beyond weak.

It took a little while to recover before he could roll over, though he'd managed even in his sapped state to hold his weight off her, to not crush her small frame into the mattress, even though he breathed hard into her neck for a few minutes, absorbing her scent and trying to recover.

Relishing the moment, he finally forced himself to roll off her. But he couldn't break the skin to skin contact. NO, he needed her skin against his. So he pulled her with him, pulled her body close into his body, drug her right on top of his chest, refusing to let her go, refusing to let her get far away from him. Even if this wasn't real, he would hold onto these feelings as long as he could since this moment was past good and his stomach contacted as he rubbed her back.

"Shh. . . Oliver, believe me I'm here. I'm real. I'm right here, and I love you. But, never lie to me, ever again. Promise me?"

"Never again. I promise you on your life. And you know how I feel about you. I will never lie to you again." And he meant it as he pulled her closer into his chest, with the words, "I need you to survive, Felicity. I don't want to survive without you."

Her hands reached for him. "I don't want to survive without you either. I need you, too. We need each other. Stay with me, Oliver."

"Only if you stay with me. I need you, Felicity."

"I guess we have no choice but for us both of to stay."

Boneless, his heart too full and wanting, aching to burst out of his chest, as she pulled her silky body across his chest, his arms wrapped around her, the blanket somewhat enveloped around them, as she traced over the scar with her fingertips, the scar Ra's had given him, the long white line that still looked white, somewhat fresh.

Exhausted, he wanted, no, he needed, ached to sleep but as she traced his scar he had to know.

"The scars don't bother you do they?" His voice lowered and became quiet and questioning. And he found himself holding his breath, awaiting her answer.

Gently, she stroked his zagged scar and ask, "Oliver, do my scars bother you? I have several now on my back. Do they repulse you? Make you uncomfortable?" She sat up and showed him her back. "See this one? And this one?" She pointed. "Darklr's ghosts gave me those. They're ugly aren't they?"

Her voice seemed pained.

"NO. Never do your scars change you. Why would you even asked that? You've seen my scars. And you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Felicity. I love you. Scars or not, I love you, no matter how many scars you have. You've seen my back and my chest? My body? And you don't seem to hate my scars."

Cautiously, she turned and reached and soothed Ra's sword scar carefully with her fingertips, as she said, "And I love you scars and all. Oliver, look at me."

He caught her eyes.

Reaching, she smoothed his scruff with her soft hands and the words, "Your scars make you MY man, and they mean something. Like this one." Softly, she traced her pink painted fingernail over his white scar again, the terrible one from the mountain top, the clear proof Ra's had beaten him, the scar that proved he'd lost the good fight, right before Ra's kicked him off a mountain, leaving him needing to die but he couldn't help but live and return to her since she'd haunted his thoughts and dreams.

Pulling him back from the dark memories, she said, "This scar almost took you from me, but this scar also brought you back to me. This scar gave you the strength to reach out and become us. Not as quickly as you should have but you still finally managed to reach out. And this scar gave you the strength to reach, to come back to me and to come to terms that you finally wanted there to be an us."

"Yeah, I guess it did. You're the only reason I lived because I wanted to come back to you, to come home to you. You're the only reason I fought to live. I would have died if I hadn't had you to come back to, and I did want there to be an us after losing that fight."

Her hand softly slid across his chest to the scar where his mother had shot him, right above his pounding heart. "I'm thankful for that. And this is my favorite scar."

"Your favorite?"

"Yeah, because that scar sealed our fates from the beginning, from the very beginning. From the time you crawled in my car shot and bleeding, this scar brought us together. I love you, Oliver. Believe me. I love you. And, you deserve to be loved, Oliver, you deserve my love." Again her hand smoothed his chest, and she laid her head on his chest again hugging him.

His arms tightened slightly, and his chest tightened, his heart swelling as something inside him felt different. His eyes swept over her small frame and he realized that somewhere in their arguments, in somewhere in their disagreements, by giving her his journal they'd connected. Lying there, he realized that he'd finally accepted she truly loved him, and that she could love him, and that he wanted to make this us thing work, since he never wanted to be alone again and wanted them to be together.

He understood and finally believed that she truly could love him, and she wanted him to stay with her. Yes, he'd finally not just chosen her, but he'd come to terms with his decision, and he'd darn sure accepted that he couldn't truly live without her as he'd been making plans to die.

Sighing contently, for the moment, his heart swelled, realizing there was a them, and as she molded herself to him, he smiled, as she said, "I'm glad you've accepted it, Oliver."

"What?"

"Us, that there is an us, a we. Pay attention, Oliver. Better or worse, there is an us. We're an US. We both have to believe it and own it."

He sighed and said quietly as his hand reached and smoothed her cheek. "I won't try to leave you again, Felicity. I know I won't survive without you. So you're stuck with me now. You know that don't you? If you don't want me to leave you, then I'm here for the duration of our lives."

"Yes, that's what I want. I want you, give me you. I love you, Oliver. And guess what?"

"What?" His eyes found hers and connected and the love sizzled between them.

"You're stuck with me too."

"Good, since I don't know how to stop loving you. And I hate this arguing thing we're doing."

She laughed before she said, "It's hardly a we're arguing thing, though you're very cute when you try to argue back."

He gave her a slight grin with the words, "I'm too old to be cute."

"Wanna bet?'

"I'm going to ignore the fact you said that. But remember it's not my fault that my family didn't argue, Felicity. Instead, we kept secrets from each other and pretended everything in our life was perfect. Something that clearly doesn't seem to work with you. But now how do we fix us, how do we save our relationship?"

"I'm not sure but I know your right that we have to do it as a team, Oliver. And, we need to keep trying, and we don't give up no matter what." She pulled him close, as she hugged him to her, pulled him into her body.

His breathe was sharp as he wrapped his arms solidly around her and said, "A team, huh?"

"Yes," she said quietly as she laid her head on his chest and smoothed his broad shoulders with her hands and the words. "We need to realize that you and me are partners, right?"

"Always and forever. You're my home, Felicity, and you always have been."

"And you're my home, Oliver. But we have to figure out how to get back in the door again. And I know we will. Don't worry we'll find the key to the door, yet."

His arms tightened on her as he ask, "Felicity, can I have my green notebook back?"

"Why?"

She looked up and he caught her bright blue eyes as he said, "I need to write that the love of my life is giving me another chance, and that I have a chance of growing old with her, of coming home again. But, I mean it about committing to each other, Felicity." He looked her straight in the eye before he said the words, "Can we discuss for better or worse now? No marriage vows, just us vows?"

"You're asking me correct?"

"Yeah, I am. Will you, Felicity Megan Smoak, stick by us, always choose us no matter what happens for better or for worse?"

"Yes, Oliver Jonas Queen, I will and guess we should throw in sickness and health in too, now shut up and kiss me, Oliver."

"Thought you'd never ask."

And he felt her wonderful sweet smile against his lips and unable to help himself, he smiled too before she pulled her lips from his and said, "We're going to be okay, Oliver. We've gotten this far. We can do this. We just have to look at life as a roller coaster."

"Yeah, and I like ups and downs." He thrust his body against her softness.

And he kissed her again, still smiling into their kiss, and her hand smoothed his scruff as she broke the kiss and pulled him closer with the words, "You've never grown out of being bad have you, but I guess we just need to learn to enjoy the ride. And Oliver, you need to write in your journal that you're mine and I'm yours and we're an us that's the way it is. End of story."

"No, beginning of story," he said as he pulled her closer. "But, later for now I need to touch you."

"Good," she said "I need to touch you too. And it's crazy stupid but someday, a lot later, I want babies with you."

He pulled back and looked deeply into her eyes as he said, "Yes. Someday, you and me and kids. I'd like that."

"Me too, but I'm starving, and I'm honestly too tired for sex. Between fighting, not eating, making love and finding each other again, you have worn me out."

He couldn't stop the laugh. Oh, how he loved her honesty. "I know how to wait. I've had lots of practice waiting for you. Sleep or food?"

"For now sleep, I'm crashing here. But, hold me, Oliver. Touch me I need you."

"I need you too." He pulled her close and inhaled her scent.

And together they drifted away as he pulled her closer and smoothed her silky, soft, skin and loved it. And her. Oh, how he loved her skin as he held her close and gave thanks for their love.

#####OQ###

Talk to me for this story is almost over. I look forward to each of you talking to me. I write 4 reviews.


	6. Chapter 6

About nine months later.

####OQ#####

"Oh, I just want this to be OVER!"

"Me too so focus on your breathing Felicity and try to push harder."

"Frack you, Oliver. I seriously hate you right now."

Her face contracted in agony, and she screamed while she bore down, and he stood wishing he could take her pain away and bear it himself. Watching her labor, and now he understood why they called it labor, he assured himself that he would never get her pregnant again, not that he'd meant to this time.

"And you've hated me at least ten hours now but I love you and you've got this. Try to breathe through the pain like we practiced." Her grip on his hand had to be bruising him as she screamed but uncaring, he locked his hand with hers and looked deep into her blue eyes.

"I can't." She groaned deeply and squeezed her eyes shut as she rocked.

"Yes, you can. Concentrate on your breathing just like we practiced. It will help with the pain. In through your nose and push the pain away by blowing out through your mouth. Come on, you're almost there. Push, Felicity! I believe in you. You can do this."

"Just shut up and leave me alone, Oliver. You're not helping." She sat up and then flopped back down, before she twisted and turned, and he knew she could no longer find an escape from the pain and his chest hurt.

"Hey, hey, I know you don't mean that."

"Then you'd be wrong! YES I DO."

"I know you're in pain. Now hate me all you want but I'm here, and I'm not leaving. Now focus on your breathing."

"Stop bossing me! Frack YOU, Oliver! This all your fault. You do know that you're never having sex again, EVER. And I mean it."

"I think you've mentioned that more than once in the last twenty four hours. Okay, I'm guilty. This baby's all my fault. I caused this baby by not realizing we had no protection the night we got back together. I should have realized that you hadn't gone to get your shot. Totally my fault. Feel better?" He watched the machine that monitored her and knew her contraction was cresting again. "Regardless, PUSH NOW, FELICITY!"

She pushed and groaned and as soon as the contraction receded, she sighed and flopped back against the bed and said, "Drugs, why didn't I do drugs?"

"You decided drug free is easier on the baby."

"And why didn't you talk me out of it? I must have been crazy."

"I wish I had since you're not the only one regretting you not having painkillers right now."

"Stupid move on my part. What was I thinking? Next time I'm going to have lots of drugs." She moaned and thrashed on the bed and pushed his hands away from her with the words, "Stop touching me."

And the color literary drain slowly out of his face as his mind thought "NEXT TIME!" And the words spilled out before he could stop them.

"Trust me, there's not going to be a next time, especially if you don't marry me. One child out of wedlock is more than enough. I'm not putting you or me through this ever again."

"Frack you, Oliver, you're not my boss. You don't get to decide. But doesn't this make two children out of wedlock?"

"Don't go there, Felicity. Now's not the time."

"Right who's counting? So what if you already have one illegitimate child, you didn't share with me?" She screamed at him, "But, trust me, if I want another illegitimate baby by you, I'll have another illegitimate baby by you. If I want another baby you'll give me another baby."

"This baby is only illegitimate because you refuse to marry me."

"Don't you dare bring up MARRIAGE right now! I've warned you about asking me to marry you! Not one word. Got it?"

The best OBGYN in Star City grinned from between her legs but wisely said nothing as Felicity collapsed panting.

"Oh, I've got it. The next time you'll have to ask me. I won't ask again." He still had a problem reigning his anger in.

Sweating and looking like hell, she crushed his hand as she snapped, "In your dreams, just be glad I agreed to use your last name, Oliver Queen."

His stomach knotted tightly, and he forced himself to unclench his jaw. Yeah, she truly knew how to push his buttons, and she didn't care he'd wanted to marry her before the baby arrived. No, she wouldn't even discuss marriage with him since he'd foolishly assumed her being pregnant meant she'd be eager to marry him.

Talk about a bad call on his part.

Once again, he'd forgotten to ask her and when he'd talked about what she'd called rebooting their wedding like it was a given, she'd exploded.

Now, every time the marriage topic came up, they fought and it continued to be a sore spot, a raw spot, with no middle ground between them and it plainly infuriated him. Now, he'd gotten to the point that just thinking about her refusing to marry him angered him, and he hated that he found himself coping by hitting something hard repeatedly, promise or no promise not to hurt himself.

But he kept that fact to himself and if he carefully wrapped his hands tightly up before he attacked the practice dummy, she didn't have a clue.

And he didn't want her to her to know that he needed to hit to COPE!

"Oh, this hurts and I'm tired, Oliver. I'm totally done. I'm done with this. I quit."

She flopped back against the raised birthing bed but another contraction seized her.

Her contractions came one right after another now, and Felicity screamed and moaned loudly in anguish, and he'd have done anything to take her pain away, anything to lend her his strength. She'd been in labor a long time without much progress, and her doctor'd finally induced and then her labor had come on with a vengeance. And in his opinion, Felicity'd been in pain way too long, and he could do little to help.

And as her labor progressed, she cried and screamed and cried some more and cursed him and even punched him in the arm and in his chest several times, but he found nothing he did helped her. Yes, he could do nothing about her pain but hold her hand, rub her back, and he'd given up trying to reason with her since whatever he said made her madder at him.

Never, he promised himself, never would he put her and him through this kind of pain again. No matter what she said, he'd get fixed before he watched her go through labor again. One illegitimate child, as she put it, would be more than enough. And soon he would be father to two children, and if he got fixed, he would never have to watch her hurt like this ever again.

"Come on Felicity, you're almost finished. Big push," said her doctor.

"I told you I quit," she snapped.

Please, he prayed, let this child be born and soon.

"Sorry, Felicity that's not the way it works."

Her doctor gave them a slight grin with her words. "Your baby's has to come out. And soon, trust me, you're in the home stretch now."

The contractions no longer waited but rushed now, one right after another, like the incoming tide, they crashed and rippled, giving her almost no rest between them as she panted and sweat, and he grimaced knowing he'd put her through this because he hadn't protected her.

No, he'd never given a thought to protection as he'd carried her to the bedroom and taken her, or rather she'd taken him, or they'd take each other but all he'd thought about was having her, right then and right there.

Bad him.

He hadn't asked if she was still on the depo or given a thought to using a condom. She'd been on the depo from the beginning, and why would he think otherwise? And, that moment, they'd barely discussed children and all he'd wanted was her.

Stupid him, since just a few short weeks later everything'd made her sick. She threw up if he brewed coffee or cooked eggs, and the smell of peppers and onions sent her running gagging to the bathroom. Soon everything he cooked made her nauseous and secretly the fact take out made her throw up too thrilled him.

But, it wasn't long after that, she'd handed him a white stick, with two red stripes and ask if he knew what that meant?

No, he didn't, but he could darn sure read the words 'pregnant' and 'not pregnant' on the stick, and his legs had failed him, and he'd had to sit down as he'd stared at that white stick with two faint red lines.

They never discussed not having the baby, and he realized pretty quickly that both of them had better learn to live on crackers and lemon line soda, since that was all that stayed down her those first few months. Finally, she'd gotten over the sickness, but it'd still been a hell of a ride, and he'd learned to take his cue from her, on a daily basis.

Some days she'd loved him with a passion, her mood beyond happy, her body full of energy and other days, she screamed at him, cried at nothing and became plain unreasonable. Those days he talked to John on Skype in the sand, who assured him that pregnancy had also made Lyla irrational and difficult. So, he figured out pretty quickly that her mood could swing in a matter of seconds, as he attempted to ride the roller coaster his life had become.

But, he'd changed a lot in the last months. She'd wanted him to scream, to fight back, well they had some terrible fights and some awesome make up sex over the last months, for even as her body changed, he'd still wanted her, if anything, he wanted her more than he ever had. But, his favorite times of her pregnancy had been as they had lounged in bed, and he'd loved talking to her belly, to his baby and had trained the baby to kick while still in the womb. Patting her belly three times, he would get a kick from the baby and a giggle out of Felicity, unless it was the middle of the night, and he woke her up.

Then she didn't giggle.

And she was far from giggling now, and he groaned in relief as the doctor placed her hand on Felicity's bulging stomach and said, "Come on big push now, finally this baby's head's crowning. Almost there, Felicity. Just a few more good pushes and you'll have your baby. You're doing fine."

She screamed and grabbed his hand and pulled against him with the words, "I hate the word FINE! Oliver, tell her I HATE THE DAMN WORD FINE!" And again he wondered if she'd broken his hand as she squeezed his hand, bore down and screamed the words, "DAMN YOU, OLIVER. This hurts more than I thought it would! This baby needs to hurry up!"

"Doc, don't use that word. It's not a good word. Bad, really bad word. Don't say it to her ever again."

"Alright how about grand?"

"Yeah, GRAND IS GOOD. That's it, Felicity, push!"

"I see your baby's head. That's the way. Push!" The doctor encouraged her, and Felicity screamed wildly as she bore painfully down, while crushing his hand as he held on tight.

She was wring sweat as she flopped back against the bed with the words, "I can't do another."

"Yes, you can do it, one more. Come on." He watched the machine and saw that the contraction was rushing upward and he locked his gaze with hers.

"Last one. Come on, I know you. You're strong. One more and this will be over. Pull against me. Look at me!"

Felicity bore down forcefully, forcing their baby, their joining, painfully out into the real world as she bawled and cried and made his chest ache and they totally connected with their eyes.

"That's the ticket. YES, FELICITY, the head is head out, relax now. Don't push. Come on, baby Queen, it's time to breathe. Your mommy didn't do all that work for nothing." The doctor reached and picked up a brown suction bulb from a nearby tray.

"Why isn't the baby breathing, Oliver? Make my baby breathe." Felicity released his hand and rose up on her elbows, her eyes wild, while her hand moved to clutch his forearm ruthlessly. "Doctor? Oliver? Somebody do something. Make him BREATHE!"

Tears showed in her voice, and he reached and squeezed her hand as his chest tightened and his stomach plummeted since he didn't know the answer.

Then the small bloody mess of a tiny child inhaled sharply as the doctor suctioned his mouth and nose out and the child screamed.

The doctor rolled the baby's shoulders and their baby slipped out screaming in a gush of body fluids.

"And it's officially a boy. Almost done now."

Felicity cried out in relief, falling back against the bed, and he choked up and shed real tears of pure joy, tears that he'd have denied, but true tears filled his eyes as their son entered the world, and she was out of pain, the worst behind them.

"Yes, it's a boy." He breathed the words out. "You did it, Felicity. He's here, finally here."

Weakness almost overpowered him, making it hard to stand, as their baby, his son gave a small mewl, then a large wail as the doctor rolled the red faced, bloody and screaming tiny being up on top of Felicity's stomach, with his tiny arms and legs flailing.

"Oh, look at him, Oliver. He's beyond beautiful." Felicity released his hand and reached and touched their baby with trembling fingers, her tears streaming freely down her face, while his own eyes continued to leak.

"Oliver, do you want to do the honors and cut his cord?"

Her doctor deftly flipped the scissors over in her hand and offered them to him.

Unable to contain his smile, and he knew his face probably possessed the largest, silliest, most impossible grin ever, and totally unsure if any of this was real, he reached out and took the scissors.

He concentrated on the cold metal beneath his hand and thought, yes, I'm here, this is real, and we just had a baby.

Heaven help him but he found it hard to breathe. How had John been able to do this? And Lyla? The world seemed to be rushing by too fast, and he wanted to run, to go somewhere to escape all this emotion, but knew he couldn't. He had to stay and take care of Felicity and heaven help him, a tiny baby.

"Oliver, you still with us?"

He blinked a couple of times and pulled himself back. "Yeah, I'm here."

"Good then cut about right here. He's a big one. I'd bet he goes almost nine pounds but then you're a big man, Oliver." Her doctor pointed to a spot on the cord, and he clipped his son's cord just below where the doctor had clamped the cord off, while the tiny child screamed sharply and flailed his arms and legs desperately on Felicity's now flatter belly.

"Awe, Oliver, look at him. Look at what we made." Felicity gave him a light filled smile and it warmed him, and he knew together, with her help, he could do this.

"He's beautiful, just like his mother."

"No, silly he's a boy. He's handsome, just like you, Daddy."

The word 'daddy' seemed to bounce around his brain before he said, "You did it, Mommy. I'm very proud of you, Felicity. Thank you."

But he thought that at this moment his son looked more like a bloody gunk covered, red faced and wrinkly old man. Yet he had a feeling that saying that might just make her punch him yet again, and he wisely kept quiet.

"No, we did it. Us." She winked at him then clasped his hand hard again, making his heart speed up.

And even sweaty, bloody and completely undone, her hair a disheveled mess, he thought she remained the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, that he'd ever had the pleasure, the honor to touch. Leaning in, he kissed her carefully on her lips, and even bedraggled and looking drained, he loved the way she smelled and the touch of her skin soothed him as his huge love for her welled up inside him, closing up his throat.

"I love you desperately," he said before he kissed her lips, and she smiled into his kiss.

"Ditto." Her bright blue eyes sparkled and unwound his control. Once again his eyes leaked, and he turned and scrubbed his face in an attempt to compose himself.

Turning back to her, he gave her another sweet careful kiss as the nurse took the screaming baby away to clean him up, measure and weigh him and do all those things that needed done. And unable to help himself, he watched the nurse raddle off facts to another nurse as another nurse inked his feet and foot printed him and then put a bracelet on him, solid proof he belonged to them.

The doctor reached and pushed on her stomach and her blood seemed to be everywhere, drawing his attention back to Felicity.

"She's hemorrhaging?" His chest tightened with the words, and his legs went weak under him.

"No, this much blood is normal, Oliver. Just part of having a baby. Felicity, nothing to it now, let's get that placenta delivered, then a few stitches and both of you can meet your new son."

He reached and held her hand while the doctor worked, his thumb rubbing her soft skin, while his other hand smoothed her sweaty hair away from her face.

"I'm shaking." She pulled her hand from his and wrapped her arms around her chest visibly trembling.

"Normal side effect. Deb, get her a heated blanket. It's probably hormones but the heat will make her feel better."

And quickly the nurse left and returned with a heated blanket. After the nurse covered her up, he pulled the blanket up and tucked it under her chin.

"Better?"

"Yeah, lots." She wet her chapped lips, with her tongue, and smiled up at him. "Except now I'm starving. And Oliver, I want coffee, lots of coffee. Believe me; I'd kill for coffee right now."

"Doc?"

"Of course you can have coffee. All you want now. Deb, order her something from the cafe too. Burger and fries sound good?"

"Sounds wonderful. I'm famished."

They'd decided to have the baby in the birthing room, not in delivery room, and the special bed snapped back together, and it wasn't long until the doctor and the nurses had Felicity cleaned up, and she sat up in the bed, carefully holding their new baby boy.

With a face that spoke of pure love, she looked down and said, "I've waited eight long months to meet you handsome. I can't believe how much you look like your daddy. Oliver, look how much he favors you."

"I don't know about that. I see you in him too. In his face, look at his chin and his cheek bones."

A nurse named Beth arrived to work with her to get the baby to nurse. Felicity had decided she would breastfeed but the infant, although alert, wasn't interested and refused to latch on. He sighed as Felicity looked like she was going to cry because the baby wouldn't take her breast.

"It's normal for the baby to nurse very little to begin with but you're still bonding with him," Beth assured them. "Skin to skin, helps him bond with you. Keep touching him. Keep trying."

"He'll be interested later, right?" Felicity said with a major frown, and he moved and touched her shoulder, trying to reassure her.

"Oh, he'll come around, just watch; soon all he'll want to do is eat and sleep. Now when he does latch on you'll need to switch breasts every ten minutes and start out with the breast he finished on last feeding insuring your milk will even out. Otherwise you'll end up with one breast empty and the other one engorged. Not a good feeling, trust me. And I'm going to warn you that your breasts will leak. I'll send you home with some samples but you'll need to buy breast pads. Just thinking about your baby can make your milk come down at the most unexpected times. And don't worry about remembering everything I'm telling you, it all there in this packet if you need to refresh your memory."

Oliver cleared this throat and said, "On that note, I think I'll go and see everyone waiting and then come back after you two discuss this."

"Chicken." Felicity gave him a small weak smile.

"Totally."

He winked at her as he found he couldn't talk from the emotions attacking him. Entering the hall, he shut the door, and once again he'd stopped to scrub his face with his hands.

Breathe, he told himself. You can do this but he found himself truly missing John's presence and strength right now. Bracing himself, he entered the packed waiting room.

Donna Smoak jumped up along with Quinton Lance. Lyla and baby Sara, Thea, Curtis and his husband and Barry and the rest had dropped everything and stood ready to meet their new baby and there were balloons and flowers everywhere.

"It's a boy!" He said as Donna squealed and jumped into his arms. Yet, he stood on the verge of losing it as everyone hugged him and patted his back. It was too much emotion at once but he muddled through it, as he barely hung on.

A short while later, the large group moved to her room, and he lost count of the people and well-wishers who shook his hand, clapped him on the back, and wished them well, until finally later, much later, only the three of them were left in the room, and he could almost breathe normally again.

"Here, Oliver. I've noticed you haven't had a turn yet," she said softly as she tried to pass the baby to him, but he took a step back and wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head.

"Please, not yet, okay, Felicity? I'm just. . .not ready."

"Overwhelmed?"

"Yeah, please give me a little time. He's, this day's, a lot to take in. I can't hold him, not yet. I will. I promise, just not quite yet."

"Okay," she said quietly, "You okay? I know we've had a long day."

"It's been harder on you. And actually that's a huge understatement. This entire day has been the best one of my life, well not the you being in pain thing; I hated that but the rest. Oh, wow, Felicity, we made a baby. A brand new person."

"Yeah, we did. Here come."

She patted the bed, and he moved and sat beside her as she unwrapped the hospital's pastel blanket, and he watched as she counted their baby's toes and looked at each of his extremely tiny long fingers, with his transparent finger nails and his tiny face with his long eye lashes, as she announced, "He's perfect, Oliver, and he's worth the pain he put me through."

Slowly, she slipped the tiny striped cap off his head and smoothed his thin dark hair, and he swallowed hard. "I don't think anything is worth you being in pain. But how can he be that small? Your hand looks huge beside his head, mine's going to be giant."

Looking up, she caught his eyes before she said, "No, it isn't. And he'll grow really quick. Now are you sure you don't want to hold him?"

"I'm sure." And his stomach plunged from the very thought of holding him.

"Alright then but actually he's a big baby, the nurse, Deb, and the doctor both said so, eight pounds and ten ounces and a little over twenty two inches long." Sliding the cap back on his head, she wrapped his tiny body back up, with the words, "I want to try to nurse again but I'm really tired. Could you push the bassinet over closer to the bed?"

He jumped up to fetch the clear baby bed and pushed it over to her, and watched as she gently lay their baby down. And his brain thought, 'THEIR BABY.' Now, he had a baby to look out for. A tiny person who'd changed everything in his life even before drawing his first breath.

Felicity said quietly, "I want to keep holding him but I'm going to take a tiny nap. I'm tired and starting to think I'll drop him. It's good that he gets to stay in the room with us because that means he's healthy."

"I know you're worn out, Felicity. I think a nap's a great idea, since we both know sleeping and hospitals don't go together. I'll keep an eye on the baby, on him."

"He needs a name."

"I know. I've been thinking about it."

"I want to know when I wake up so think about a name, Oliver. He needs a name and soon, and we agreed that you would give him his first name. And I would give him his middle name and I know it now."

"Do you?"

Her smile lit her tired face. "Yeah, pick something that goes with Jeffery."

He stared hard in her eyes and said, "Jeffery, huh? Why that name?"

"I'll tell you later when I'm not this tired. Right now, how about because, I like it, and trust me, it's the perfect middle name for him. But his first name is up to you. Think about it."

"I will. I promise." And she reached out and gripped his hand, lacing her fingers with his and shut her eyes.

The names of all the people who'd influenced him during his life spun through his head. He thought of his father Robert, his friend Tommy, even Slade, and Mike. But none of them seemed right. And all of them reminded him of death. He needed a name that spoke of life, of living, not of dying.

Felicity drifted away into sleep and her fingers went slack on his hand. Carefully, he pulled his hand from hers and with one finger he touched his son's surprisingly tiny soft hand, and the boy's blue eyes snapped open and his son managed to reach and wrap his tiny surprisingly strong miniature fingers around his thumb, making his stomach flip over.

Unable to help himself, he felt his love for their child once again tighten his chest, and he smiled as he said softly, "What shall I call you?" as he stroked his baby's skin, and he closed his eyes and just relish the moment as he thought of all the things he wanted to share with this child, how he wanted to be there to hear his first word, to see his first smile, his first steps and all those other firsts after that.

Sitting there, he thought about how they'd created this child, this being in a moment of intense love and a peace settled over him, as he realized this child was a gift since for the first time in years, he'd finally taken a huge step toward wanting a future, toward planning a future. In time, the child's fingers went lax on his thumb, and he pulled away and took out his phone.

Grinning, he searched baby names that meant gift and like normal with the internet, one page led to another and he smiled and said out loud, "Benjamin. Yes, Benjamin it is. But Benjamin is too long to use every day, so we'll call you Ben for short."

And he wished Felicity would to wake up soon, so he could tell her, but knowing how tired she was, he could wait, and he returned to touching his son's velvety skin.

Later, he rubbed sleep from his eyes as he heard her quiet words, "I'm cold."

The hospital room's dim light made everything surreal. Realizing, he'd dosed off in the chair beside her, his eyes scanned the sleeping baby, and Felicity's white face.

"Are you all right?" His heart sped up, realizing she looked too pale.

"No, I feel weak, and I need to get up and use the bathroom."

She sat up and started to carefully rise before she said, "Oliver, maybe you should call the nurse, I feel strange. I'm lightheaded, dizzy almost. I feel bad but I need to get up and pee."

He stood as he said, "Wait, Felicity. I don't want you to fall. Let me help you. I'll push the IV. You can lean on me."

Pushing the covers back, she started to sit up but she gave a large gasp, and he saw the large bright red spot staining the bed and her hospital gown.

Instantly, a hard lump formed in his throat. Not wanting to panic her, but beginning to lose it, his heart raced as he covered her back up and hit the nurse's button, while his own blood rushed, pounded in his ears.

"Problems?" Came the nurse's voice.

"I need someone to come right now. She's bleeding and we need the bed changed. PLEASE COME NOW. RIGHT NOW!"

"I'll send someone. Just give us a minute."

"NO, don't send someone in a minute, come NOW."

Lifting the blanket, she looked again and said, "Oliver, you know I hate the sight of blood, especially my own." She gagged a little. "But, I feel strange. Please, something's wrong, Oliver. I'm really tired but I need to get up and pee. Help me up. I have to go to the bathroom."

"No, Felicity, just stay put. Don't try to get up. Go ahead and pee if you need to. BUT, whatever you do don't go to sleep or move. I'll get help, right NOW."

Quickly, he rushed out the door and grabbed the first nurse, he encountered by the arm and tugged on her.

"She's covered in blood. HELP ME! I need you to come right NOW."

"Sir, I'm sure it's fine. First time father?"

She gave him a knowing smile.

"YEAH. BUT PLEASE COME NOW!" He couldn't stop his voice from rising. "And I need someone to call her doctor. NOW! Please don't wait, call her doctor right now!"

"Her doctor's probably gone for the day. But I'll come and look if it'll make you happy."

The nurse gave him a small grin with a look that clearly said, you're wasting my time, foolish first time father, this is nothing.

When they entered, their baby cried sharply as he opened the door. Felicity had turned on her side, pale and still now.

The nurse pulled the covers back and hit the call button.

"Someone is coming soon."

"Beth, call Dr. Mitchell NOW! Her patient's experiencing a postpartum hemorrhage, and I need a rapid response team stat and all the help you can send me. NOW, RIGHT NOW! It doesn't look good."

The baby continued to scream as people flooded into the door, and he stood feeling helpless as his world collapsed around him.

The first nurse elevated her feet. The second nurse barked orders. "Get me another line in. I need a blood type."

"Nothing in the record."

"Crap, someone type her. Sir, could you take your baby and step out, please."

A nurse picked up the baby and tried to hand his son to him. "NO, I can't." he said sharply, stepping back and refusing to take the baby, knowing the last thing he could do was hold him right now.

A nurse pulled on his arm, and he resisted. "No, no. NO, I have to stay with her. I AM NOT leaving her."

Her doctor arrived dressed in a plain clothes and flats rushing in the door and started rapid firing orders, "You press on her belly and massage it. It will help stop her bleeding. Beth, have you typed her? Never mind get me some type O negative. MOVE, we don't have time. I want blood in her stat or we're going to lose her and get him out of here."

The machines went wild, chiming, alarming and it took several nurses to push him out of the room but he heard the words, "Come on, Felicity stay with us. You have a baby that needs you. Lora, get me a crash cart and some blood NOW. And get me some."

The door shut cutting off her words and someone took his screaming baby away and his baby's cries echoed down the empty hall, as he fell apart, sliding down the wall to the floor.

"NO!" He grasp raggedly, sitting straight up in their lonely bed, his hands reaching, searching the covers beside him. Desperately, needing her to be there in the bed beside him, his heart contracted, squeezed painfully as his breath came out labored, and his stomach bottomed out. He fought his way back to reality, came wide awake sweating buckets to find their bed empty, extremely empty and cold, and the reality of the empty blankets on her side overpowered his emotions, since he couldn't tell if she'd ever been there or not.

He couldn't think. His brain refused to work. Had she died? What was real? Where was his baby?

"Felicity?" He yelled into the darkness. "Answer me!"

Heart pounding loudly in his ears, he needed to find real, ached to find now, and he wasn't sure what was real anymore.

Jumping to his feet, he stumped, almost falling, in his haste, but he caught himself as he ran to the bathroom and found it empty, and he turned on his heel. Wrenching their bedroom door open, he hurried to the nursery, to that blue room that he'd repainted three times because the color wasn't just right, and she'd stood in this very hall and smiled and said, "Please, Oliver, just one more time the color just isn't right."

He could clearly remember that. The baby was real. Flashes of her pregnancy spun through his mind. Her laughing showing him tiny clothes, their excitement when the baby started to kick, and how he'd almost being late , almost missed the ultrasound where they'd found out he was a boy, all those memories and more flashed through his mind.

Jerking, their baby's door open, he stood in the dark hoping, with his heart in his throat, hoping to find them both there, to find life, but instead he found an empty room, a room that spoke of Felicity's touch, a sweetly decorated room with tiny arrows hand painted on Ben's crib, but the room held no sign of life and didn't answer his question.

He scrubbed his face and demanded himself to think.

Would he have dealt with the crib, the room, if she'd died? Would he have taken everything out of the room? Or would he have gone on alone with just him and their baby? Surely even if she had died, he would still have her baby, still have that piece of her? He couldn't remember and didn't know and couldn't think. Confused, his mind barely working, he found the dream still controlling him, and he wanted to scream and hit something.

What if he was alone? What if he was responsible for their baby? Where was his baby? His son was once again gone, lost to him.

Closing his eyes, he pushed the helplessness down and said out loud, "Focus. Think."

Turning, he retraced his steps returning to the bedroom, this time calling her name, loudly, desperately calling her name, repeatedly.

"FELICITY, answer me. FELICITY? PLEASE, ANSWER ME! Ben where are you? Felicity? BEN? BENJAMIN!" He stood at the top landing now and looked down into a dark living room, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

"Shh, Oliver, I'm here, we're down here in the living room. I'm just about to get Benjamin back to sleep. SHHH! Don't yell."

Hurrying down the stairs, rushing, he thought his heart would pound out of his chest as he hoped that he wasn't hearing things, hoped he hadn't made her voice up in his head, just hearing what he wanted to hear, what he needed, ached to hear.

Yes, please, let her and the baby be real, and he took in her bowed blonde head, her blonde hair loosely framing her face as she sat curled up on the couch in her soft teddy bear PJ's and one of his button up shirts, unbuttoned about half way down and pushed to one side, showing her bare breast, her gaze intently focused on the tiny dark haired child latched sleepy on her nipple. He could smell her and Ben as he got closer, as she sat cuddling that small being that they'd created in love and that'd almost taken her from him.

But what a lovely image the two of them made sitting on their couch in the loft.

Slowly, he shut his eyes and tried to slow his racing heart. His hand trembled and he clenched it as his brain engaged, remembering how close she'd come to dying that night, knowing that he never wanted her pregnant again. Knowing that against her wishes, he'd already checked on getting himself fixed. And, how he'd thought about making that appointment, but he knew he'd better discuss it with her before he took action if he wanted there to continue to be an us.

And he was still thinking about how to convince her that one child would be enough, she had Ben now, had the baby that they'd created, and he didn't understand how she couldn't recognize how lucky she was to still be here after she'd hemorrhaged. But he could seem to find the words to make her understand that she'd survived and it wasn't because he'd saved her.

Self-hate engulfed him knowing he hadn't saved her. No, he'd been watching their baby, then he'd been sleeping and had let his guard down, while she'd been quietly bleeding to death in the hospital bed beside him, and that another few minutes and she'd have been gone, would have bleed out and been lost to him, forever.

The memory of her doctor's drawn face flashed thorough his mind as she had told him they'd been lucky, Felicity had turned the corner and had stabilized, but she would be keeping her in the hospital a few days. Then the woman had walked away. On autopilot, he'd returned to her room and after he'd shut the door, and checked that she was breathing, once again he'd slid down the wall and sat in the cold floor a long while, unable to stand.

All he could think about was that he wouldn't he put her in such danger again not for sex, even if he loved sex with her. And the only choice seemed to be him getting fixed.

Not that she'd agreed, since they'd already had words about it. Yes, it all came flooding back.

"Oliver, are you okay?" She turned her face up and gave him one of her special smiles. "You looked panicked an instant there. Bad dream?"

He used to lie to her about the dreams, pretend they weren't real but not anymore.

Instead, he gave a slight shrug before he said, "Yeah, we were back at the hospital the night he was born, and I woke up alone."

She looked at him hard, her blue eyes drilling into his before she said, "And you thought the worst?"

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck and forced out the words. "I thought you'd died. And then I couldn't find either of you when I woke up."

Her hand reached out, with the words, "We're here and everything okay. Come here, join us, daddy."

Her light filled smile engulfed him.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Daddy, huh?"

"Well, since he's almost two weeks old, it's time you decide what you want him to call you. You could be papa, or father, or how about old man?" Her voice held that special tone she reserved for teasing him, and a tiny smile tugged on the corners of his mouth.

Moving, he sat beside her on the couch, as he watched her nurse their son. Clearing his throat, he said, "Funny, but I think daddy or dad will work unless you want him to call you old woman?"

She giggled before she said, "I guess he can wait and call you old man when he's a teenager."

"I don't want to even think about him being a teenager right now."

Her hand smoothed his cheek. "Oliver, are you alright? I know the dreams are hard on you."

"I'm awesome as of right now, because I have what I need to make me happy."

"Me too. My two men. Have you noticed Ben has your nose? It's past cute."

He reached and touched her, making sure that she was truly real, that she was truly alive and there with him as he sat beside her and the baby, his strong arms encircled them both.

Carefully, he breathed in the sweet scent that was her, a smell that was like sunshine and flowers and now included baby powder and something else that totally smelled like a sweet baby and made his chest ache.

"And my hair, thank goodness, but he has such blue beautiful eyes, Oliver, just like yours. And yes, I'm real, feel me touching you, try to ground yourself and try to think about us not the nightmare."

"Caught me huh? I'm trying but it's hard when you almost died on me. I wish you would reconsider me getting a vasectomy? I adore sex with you but I'm not getting you pregnant ever again."

"We've discussed this." She sighed before she went on, "I know what happened was traumatic for you, for both of us, but this is my body and my choice. And you need to remember I was an only child, and I was lonely, Oliver. I want to have another baby, not soon but Ben needs a little brother or sister."

"Darn right it was traumatic. Ben can play with Sara or we can adopt. I'm never living through that again. I mean it. I want to make an appointment and get it done as soon as possible."

"Please, I'm too tired to argue with you tonight. Ben has decided today is a no sleeping day, and I'm exhausted. Can we just table this discussion a few months? I mean it's after 4 A.M. And what time did you get home?"

He shut his eyes and sighed, then opened them, not wanting to discuss that he'd been at the lair beating up the dummy, when he should have been home with her and Ben, so he said, "I'm sorry I didn't come home earlier. Did Ben have a tummy ache?"

"He was fussy. I think maybe he misses his daddy's voice? You used to talk to him before he was born, Oliver."

Reaching out, his callused fingertip cautiously smoothed their baby's soft face, and he realized once again how much larger his hand was than his tiny son's head. And the idea of how small his child was compared to him, scared him and made his jaw tighten enough it ached, before he, shamelessly, turned the conversation to the baby.

"His skin is really soft, like his mom's."

"Yeah it is but I love his blue eyes. They look like yours Oliver."

"Not mine. Yours. I'm glad he has blue eyes, just like yours."

"There's a ninety nine percent chance, his eyes will stay blue since we both have blue eyes. Now, I'm glad you're up since I'd dearly love a shower and you could hold him while I take one."

"Couldn't you just put him in the bassinet?" His voice sounded strained even to him, but he couldn't help it.

"No, if you want him in the bassinet then you put him there. But he'll probably wake up needing to burp. Come on, Oliver. It's been almost two weeks now. You can fight ten men at once with your bare hands but you can't hold your son? Now's, the time. I've about finished feeding him and you're going to hold him."

She smiled and breathing became impossible, for an instant, as he shook his head.

"Soon, I promise, but how about I hold you both right now?"

And he pulled her onto his lap and placed his face against her hair and breathed in her scent, grounding himself, as his heart rate slowed and his stomach settled. Silently, he gave thanks she was alive and sitting in his lap holding their child, Ben, as he tucked his face into her neck.

"The dream still?"

A year ago, he'd have lied to her, brushed it off and kept the terror to himself, but he'd promised not to lie to her and slowly he was accepting he had PTSD. Now some days the dreams were better if he shared with her, if he'd let go of his demons and forced them into the light and it wasn't a lie to say, "Yeah, I'm still a little unsure about real right now and that's why right now isn't the best time to try to hold him."

But he looked away because he knew in his heart that the dream wasn't the entire truth about why he didn't want to hold Ben.

"We're real. Touch me, Oliver. I'm right here with you and just like you I'm a survivor, which means you have no more excuses not to hold him."

Using her pointer finger, she popped her nipple out the sleeping baby's mouth, and he realized how beautiful Felicity looked nursing their child. Effortlessly, she threw what she called a burp clothe over her shoulder then arranged the tiny infant and began to pat his back until he gave a burp that seemed too large for such a small boy.

"I'm exhausted, Oliver. Who knew having a baby made a person this tired? He's growing so fast that he only sleeps a few hours until he's hungry again. My milk is barely keeping up. I feel like he's a little vampire who's draining me dry."

He couldn't suppress his smile. "From what I've read that's normal. Ben will sleep longer as soon as he grows a bigger belly and your body will figure out how much milk to make."

"Awe, I knew you'd be a good daddy. I love that you've been reading about babies and breastfeeding. Who would have ever thought playboy Oliver Queen would know anything about breasts but which models had the largest."

"Felicity, stop, you know I haven't been like that in years. Ben and I both are only interested in your breasts and no one else's." He hugged her tighter to him. "But you don't have to breast feed him you know? If it is too much, you could change to bottles and formula. I'd understand if you wanted to stop. I see how tired you are. I don't want you to get sick."

Leaning into his chest, she tucked her head under his chin, sighed and said, "I'm not getting sick. I'm tired that's all. And, we discussed this and agreed that I should breastfeed at least four to six months. We need to a give him a healthy start, and since I'm healthy I'm sharing my antibodies with him. My milk helps protect him from diseases and infections. And every time he nurses, he helps me get my figure back faster. Breastfeeding is a win, win situation. Did you know that women that breastfeed are less likely to get cancer?"

"I think you've mentioned that before. And yes, that's a plus." His heart had slowed now, and he found himself wanting to smile as she ticked off the facts.

"I know my milk is the best food for him. It's easier for him to digest." He smiled as she patted the baby's back with one hand and talked with the other, ticking facts off on her fingers, with the words, "It's always warm and ready, and he's less likely to have ear infections, diarrhea, pneumonia, wheezing, and bronchitis."

"All good things. I'm glad you want him to have a good start. I do too but not at your health's expense."

And he couldn't suppress his grin but she did that to him. Like always, she was intense about her subject, yet another reason he loved her. In the last months he'd accepted that she was his key to happiness, his key to finally living his life and not just surviving it. But as always the dark whispered in his head that this time in his life was too good to be true, and he'd begun to fixate on how long he had with her, with his son before something or someone took it all away. He couldn't help but think that she'd cheated death and death always came back. His hand fisted and he swallowed hard.

"Oliver, are you listening to me. Where are you?"

She pushed on his chest and he blinked and focused on her. "I'm back. What were you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm beat and it's only been a couple of weeks. How am I going to survive the next month, the next year? Oliver, I need you to help more. Please!"

"I've helped change his diaper; I'd say that's helping."

"Once, and all you've done is wet not poopy. His poop is yellow, Oliver. Yellow or sometimes almost green. It's disgusting. Now, poop aside, I honestly need you to pull your weight around here. You need to come home in the evenings and be with your family. I miss you. We miss you."

He wanted to groan. Oh, how she pulled at his heart strings, without even trying, and he was trying hard not to lie to her, making him select his words carefully. "You know I'm setting up that new task force right now, it takes a lot of time and energy."

"You could put it off, Oliver. The city wouldn't melt down if you spent a little more time at home. We just had a baby. I swear you're pulling away from me. What is going on with you?"

"I'm busy, Felicity, I mean I'm doing the laundry, doing major laundry since this little guy somehow makes a big mess. I'm also doing the shopping, the cooking, the dishes and cleaning the house. And I can't believe all the baby stuff Ben has that needs washed too. And I'm still mayor you know. Finally, I'm fighting crime in the light with that new task force we've started. I'm doing everything I can to keep everyone safe. I'd say I'm more than pulling my weight."

"I know you're doing a lot but you're also avoiding holding him, Oliver. Do you think I haven't noticed that you have yet to hold your son? He's about to be two weeks old and you have not held him, not once. I need you to help me more, hands on the baby more. I've started pumping milk, and you are going to feed him a bottle the next time he's hungry."

"Wait a minute."

"No, waiting is over and let me tell you that no matter what time it is, or how much Ben's screaming, you can't microwave my milk to warm it up."

"No?"

"NO, microwaving causes hot spots, breaks the milk down, and can cause toxicity, can produce molecular changes in the amino acids in milk proteins. . ."

"Felicity, stop. I understand, no microwaving."

"Let me finish since you need to understand microwaving can affect the nutritional value of the milk, and Ben needs the nutrition. But, we got a bottle warmer from the baby shower. I'll show you how to use it and remember you have to hold him when you feed him. We will have absolutely no bottle propping for our son. I catch you propping and you'll be in serious trouble. Ben needs to know we love him, needs to be held when you feed him."'

"I promise. No propping. Scouts honor."

"Why don't I believe you were ever a boy scout?"

"Would Green Arrow's honor make you feel better?"

"Did you just make a joke?" She tipped her blonde head, and he couldn't stop his lips from twitching and turning upward.

"Guess not since you had to ask," he said with a true grin.

She eyed him strangely and he had a feeling smiling at her wasn't the way to go at this moment, as she added, "We're going to make him feel secure by touching him and holding him, but I'm more than ready to let you help with the middle of the night feedings or during the day too. Oliver, I need to sleep a little more. And it's not like you sleep a lot anyway."

With a move, he should have been proud of but wasn't, she unexpectedly rolled off his lap and deposited their baby straight into his empty lap and stepped back with the words, "Don't drop him."

"Felicity, wait. I can't." His stomach rolled over as he pulled his infant son into his bare chest, making sure he didn't drop him.

"YES, you can. Support his neck, Oliver, with the crook of your arm. That's it." She guided him with her soft, gentle hands and placed the burp clothe over his bare shoulder, with the words, "He spits up sometimes. He pukes sometimes too."

"Great? What if he pukes on me and I drop him?"

"Then he'll cry and I probably will too, so don't drop him. And you'll need a shower."

Her smile warmed him as she leaned in and softly kissed his cheek. And his heart rate sped up when she said, "Please don't drop him because you know that then I WILL CRY."

"Geez, it's not like I plan to drop him. But, he weights nothing. I thought he'd be heavier."

"Trust me; he's heavy after you hold him a while. Now, I'm going to take a shower and then we're going to have sex and make another one."

"Are you trying to give me nightmares? And since the doctor told me to wait at least six weeks and then use protection, we'll be waiting at least another month. But believe me I want you."

"Joking, spoil sport. I knew you'd say no." But she leaned in and gave him a hot kiss before she broke the contact and flipped her blonde hair as she walked away from him.

"Not funny, but wait, Felicity, what if he cries?"

"Then he probably needs to burp again. My milk seems to flood him when it comes down, and I've noticed he gulps air."

"I've read that if that's a problem you should lay down to feed him. You've heard of gravity, right? And your breast size has. . ." he hesitated before he said, "well I'll just say your breasts have increased lately. Not that me or Ben mind at all. As a matter of fact, I kind of like it."

And he smiled at her.

She looked over her glasses at him, glared at him with the words, "You better wipe that goofy grin off your face right now. What is it with guys and big breasts? If guys had to carry big breasts around they'd hate big breasts."

"I plead the fifth."

"Probably a good choice and heaven's knows I'd love to lie down to feed him, but I'd fall asleep and end up drained on one side and too full on the other side, and what if I rolled over and squished him? Or he fell off the bed or got down under the pillows while I was asleep. Geez, I could kill him, Oliver. I can barely keep my eyes open when I feed him now. No way am I doing that."

"Calm down, Felicity, it was only a suggestion. Maybe you could try it when you're not this tired. But the question is what do I do if he cries?"

"For now, if he fusses, just put him on your shoulder and pat his back until he gives up that bubble. You can do this. Just keep patting. And remember, he's like his daddy, he likes skin to skin contact."

"Felicity? Wait."

She waved at him, as she walked away, with the words, "Shoulder, better yet, lay him on your chest. He's used to the sound of my heartbeat, remember it calms him down. Pat his back. You helped make him, Oliver. You can help take care of him."

And then she walked away, leaving him alone with this tiny infant of a son, the small child she'd almost died for, and he still wasn't sure he wanted to hold. And this child, his tiny son scared him to death.

Yet, he realized that his child's skin felt beyond soft beneath his callused fingertips as he touched him, and Ben, yes, he'd begun to think of him as Ben, had begun to think of him as a person, and he knew from what he'd read, Ben would soon start cooing, would soon start trying to communicate with them, and would start using vowels on his way to speaking and learning to use language.

But right now his son smelled of baby, of sweet powders and a scent that belonged to him, to only his son, and luckily, he didn't smell poopy. And yes, he'd done a lot of reading about babies. He wanted to be informed, wanted to know.

Without warning, Ben waved his tiny arms and then his child reached out and wrapped his miniature grasping hand around his pointer finger, his baby's grip tight and strong for such a small being. His stomach plummeted as Oliver couldn't help but inspect his little son, their tiny being who'd mixed their blood and their love and who would always connect them. But now he found himself responsible for this new life, for his son, this tiny baby who fit perfectly into his large hands.

"Hey, Ben. I'm your dad. Weird but true."

The words sounded foreign, even to him and his baby blinked and seemed to focus on his face.

"Ben, your mom and I, we created you in love, and she insisted I name you."

The baby blinked again, and he swore his baby tried to focus on his face and something deep within him sparked.

"I'm going to share something with you, Ben. I'm scared of being a father, a dad. I don't know what to do with you."

The child pulled his finger toward his mouth and sucked his finger, then gave a dissatisfied cry.

"No, don't do that. Ben. Please, no, don't cry." He shook his head.

But that didn't stop his baby.

Ben screwed his face up and gave a large wail, sounding like someone'd tried to kill him.

His heart pounded like it would burst out of his chest. Carefully, he pulled the baby back as his son's face became redder and redder as he cried out.

"Felicity?" He yelled. "A little help here."

No answer.

Feeling helpless, completely overwhelmed by someone who weighed in at less than ten pounds, he carefully flipped screaming, red faced Ben up against his chest, placing his baby's ear against his heart as began to carefully pat and say, "Shh . . . it's okay. Don't cry. Give me a break and don't cry."

Ben hiccupped a couple of times and then slowly settled down, calming.

"Shh . . . I've got you. I'm your father, your daddy, your dad and I'll look out for you always. But don't cry."

The infant gave a large burp and then settled solidly, almost boneless, against his chest, and he felt the emotions inside him implode.

Oh, heaven help him, this small being, this tiny person belonged to him, and Felicity and he'd created him. The thought blew his mind.

Cautiously, his large hand leisurely swept his son's fuzzy soft head.

Unable to help himself, his eyes leaked, and he couldn't stop the tears. No, he let his eyes weep, as he touched every part of his son.

With precision, he inspected every finger, every toe and every bit of his son's soft skin that wasn't covered in a diaper until he finally managed to get back under control and just breathe and live in the moment as he patted Ben's soft back.

"Oliver? You doing okay?"

She stood in the doorway and looked hard at him as she looked fresh from her bath.

"Yes, I'm good. Want to come here?" He scrubbed his face with his hand.

Crossing the room, she sat down beside him.

"Did he cry?" Her hand swept his face, touching his mole gently. "I hurried."

"Thank you. He cried a little bit. But then he burped again, a massive burp. He's good right now I think. But you didn't have to hurry, we were doing awesome."

"Yes, I did. I was worried. But, you're going to make an wonderful daddy."

"And you're already an awesome mommy. I see how well you do with him."

His hand reached out and encircled her waist and pulled her toward him.

"Don't. My hair's wet. It will be cold."

"I don't care. I've been wet before. And I've been cold more times than I can count. Your cold hair doesn't bother me at all."

And he shut his eyes and sighed as she laid her cold wet blonde head against his broad chest, next to his son's and his stomach contracted tightly when he felt her link her small fingers with his large ones on top of their child's bare back.

Softly, she rubbed the outside of his pinky with her thumb, and he exhaled, loving the touch of her skin. A lump developed in his throat, and he had a hard time reining his foolish emotions in but he tried.

"I like his name, Oliver. Benjamin Jeffery Queen. I love the sound of it."

"So do I. And I love you and thank you for all you went through to give me a son."

"You're welcome but why did you name him Benjamin? Come on tell me."

She snuggled into his chest, and he kissed the top of her wet head and wondered if he would ever be this happy ever again.

"Was he someone you knew in your past? Someone you never talked about?"

"No, but, I almost named him Mike after an old friend, after a man who saved me countless times and is one of the main reasons I'm still here today. I also considered Robert to honor my father and Tommy, my dear friend, but I decided I didn't want to honor the dead. No, instead, I'd rather honor the living, that I'd rather honor you."

"Me? How? The only Benjamin I know is Benjamin Franklin, great guy to name him after but I'm not seeing you as a great fan of the one of our Founding Fathers of the United States, even thought he was a diplomat, a printer, a well-known author, a politician, a scientist."

"Felicity, did I asked for a history lesson?"

"No, but let me finish. He was also an inventor, and statesman."

She pushed her glasses up on her nose, tilted her head up to look at him and ask, "Did you know he invented bifocals in 1784, just think about that year. It was 1784! He did all that and more. We would be lucky to have a son like him."

He laughed because he couldn't help it before he said, "And I wish our son would be just one of those things, but no, I chose his name because it means from the right hand. Believe me, Felicity, you're my right hand, and you always will be, and he comes from you."

"Awe, I love that, Oliver, and it seems we're thinking along the same lines. Do you know why I named him Jeffery?"

"No, why?"

His eyes found hers and they connected.

"It means gift of peace, and that's what I want for you, for us. I want you to finally have peace in your life. I want this child to bring you peace for the first time in your life, at least until he's a teenager and then he can call you old man. Now I can barely keep my eyes open. Can you put him to bed in his room, and come lay down with me? Hold me?"

"You're going to bed with wet hair? You'll regret that." He gave her a half smile.

"I'm too tired to care anymore. But, Oliver, remember to lay him on his belly, not his back, it helps keep the SID's away. Please, I don't think I could stand to get up to find him gone."

"No parent would ever want that."

He reached and smoothed her cheek and for an instant, she leaned into his hand.

"NO, not ever, just make sure his head is turn to one side, and make sure he can breathe. He doesn't have good neck control yet. But, cover him up, tuck his blanket around him, because he likes the covers tight around him. It reminds him of the womb. And don't forget he likes the green blanket."

"And he's told you this?"

"Okay, maybe it's me that likes the green blanket since it matches the arrows on his bed. Come on, I'm tired. And no pillows or stuffed animals in the bed with him, daddy. Choking hazards."

"Are you sure you want me to put him to bed? I think I'll forget something, Felicity."

"You can do it. I trust you to keep him safe."

Like his child was made of fragile crystal, he managed to get up off the couch, and somehow without waking the tiny infant carry him up the stairs and lay him down in his crib with the tiny personalized painted arrows.

Slowly, he traced his rough fingertip across his son's smooth cheek, with the quiet words, "You've got a wonderful mommy, Ben. She saved me from myself. She's fought for me, and she's literally pulled me back from the edge of darkness when I wanted to step into the blackness. She's my right hand, forever and always. And I would have died countless times without her. Believe me when I say, she's my love, my hope and my light that keeps me on the right path. And she forgives my sins and can see the real me, the man that wants to do what is right, wants to do good."

His son stirred and he reached and patted his back three times and the child settled down.

"That's my boy. Remember I patted your mommy's belly just like that? And then I talked to you. Well, I just want you to know I'm sorry I haven't held you these first days of your life, but I couldn't force myself to do it. I'm not good at being a dad. Just ask your big brother William, since one reason or another, I've missed the first eight years of his life, and now, I'm going to miss his entire childhood. But you need to understand that I had to send him away to keep him safe. Now, I swear that's not going to happen to you because I'd have to send your Mommy away too. And I won't let that happen. I swear on both your lives."

The tiny child stuck his thumb in his mouth and began to suck and against his will, the corners of his mouth turned up. "Ben you're a thumb sucker. Did you know that you're Aunt Thea sucked her thumb when she was a baby? You two have something in common."

Sighing deeply, he wrapped his arms around himself before he went on. "Now I know you're too little to understand but your mommy owns what's left of my black heart. And I blame myself that she almost died, because I was too busy looking at you, treasuring you, and I lost my focus and didn't see the danger she was in until it was almost too late."

His hand swept his son's skin before he said, "And I know it wasn't your fault, that you didn't asked to be born or mean to make her sick, and I know your mommy would be disappointed in me if she knew that I'm afraid to love you, that I'm afraid I won't be able to keep you both safe."

He had to force the words out, "And I am, Ben, just between you and me, I'm afraid I'll either lose you both or have to send you both away like William. I'm afraid of going back to being alone. Death always finds me. Darkness always comes for me, and that's the reason I didn't want to hold you and get too attached, because I knew if I did, I'd love you and it'd destroy me when I have to let you go. And I find I want a future with you and your mommy, and I'm terrified I won't get it. I keep wondering how much time I have left with both of you, and I've been pulling back, distancing myself."

He tucked the covers tightly around his child and the baby sighed and snuggled deeper into sleep.

"Then tonight she tells me you're my special gift of peace from her, and dumps you in my lap and it changed everything. Dig was right. Holding you changes everything. And your mommy's right. I've been working extra hours, staying away and staying busy and putting distance between us. But I can't help but love you my son. I tried not to but I do. And I love your mommy, even if she stubbornly never agrees to marry me, and I'll love you both no matter what. But now maybe you could give mommy a break and let her sleep at least a couple hours. She's getting dark circles under her eyes, and she's really tired. Night, Ben."

For an instant, he watched the tiny infant sleep, then he turned and left the door open, insuring he could hear the baby if he cried.

Opening the bedroom door, he found her sitting up in the bed hugging a pillow and sobbing.

"Hey, what is going on? Are you in pain?" Moving quickly, he engulfed her in his arms, pulling her to him. "Shh, what's the matter? What happened? Where does it hurt? Tell ME."

She pointed to her chest and said, "You're breaking my heart and these darn hormones are killing me. I didn't know you were blaming yourself because I almost died, though I should have known, Oliver. I honestly thought you were afraid of him because he's small. I didn't know you were trying not to love him."

"His size does intimate me but how did you know?" His stomach plummeted violently and his chest ached as he literally felt the blood drain out of his face when she pointed to small white box that looked like a walkie talkie.

"Your sister dropped off a baby monitor today. It makes sure I can hear him even if I'm upstairs or downstairs."

"You heard me?"

"Every word. I should have known you would make me almost dying somehow your fault and that you think you don't have a future with us."

"Look, Felicity I . . .didn't . . ." What could he say that would repair this?

"Lying to me right now would be a huge mistake."

He shut his eyes and exhaled sharply the pain stabbing his heart, ripping his heart out with sharp claws.

"I didn't know you were listening." His knees were going weak on him and he had to sit down on the bed beside her.

But she pushed away him from him, with the angry words, "What you'd have done with him if I'd have died, Oliver? Would you put Ben up for adoption? Or just walked away from him? What would you have done with my baby, with OUR baby, Oliver? Would you have given him away and went somewhere to self-destruct?"

Her words were clipped, precise and her tears ran tracks down her face and made his heart hurt.

"NO. Alright, I don't know but I've thought about it a lot lately, since the what if's have been killing me."

"The what ifs?"

His hands twitched, and he fisted them to still the motion.

"What if I hadn't heard you say you were cold? What if I'd slept on? What if I woke up to find you'd bled to dead? And what if I had to raise Ben alone? What if I couldn't handle it?"

"Thea and our friends would have helped you."

She sobbed and his words became earnest. "I know Thea would have stepped up and helped me take care of him. She'd of helped me raise him because there would never be another you."

"You don't know that. You could have found someone else."

"NO, I don't believe that. I don't want someone else. I want you! And you're right I'd have wanted to run, but I'd have stayed and raised him. I promise. I'd have stayed."

"You've run before."

"Not if you'd have died. Ben would be all I'd left of you, and even though it would have hurt me to look at your eyes, since he has your awesome blue eyes, I'd have honored you and stuck it out and raised him."

Reaching, he tipped her chin up and found her tearful blue eyes before he said softly, "And every day, I'd have told him how much I loved his mother, about how grateful I was for the way she'd made my life worth living. And I'd tell him how much I missed her, and how he was the only baby I'd ever held in my life, and I'd stand by him because that would be what his mommy would expect from me."

And she just cried harder as she said, "I don't know if I believe you. I think you would have left him, would have ran."

"NO, I don't believe that. But you're right I'd have wanted to run, but I'd have stayed and raised him. I promise. I'd have stayed. Believe me. I haven't lied to you in months. Please, Felicity, this is a better or worse moment here and it's been a hard couple of weeks for us. Believe me when I say, I swear I'm trying my very best to love him. He's a special wonderful gift, and I know that. You know I'm not good with words and I'm trying my best here to say what I'm feeling. But I admit this daddy thing scares the hell out of me."

"I wish I could believe you." She sniffed and wiped her face with her hands.

"You can. Felicity, I can prove it to you. Remember when I woke up from the nightmare I was looking for him. I wasn't just hollering your name but his too. I was panicked because I couldn't find either of you, and I was looking for both of you. I'd already considered that you'd died but I was still hunting for Ben, for our baby, because I was sure even if you were gone, he should have been here. I would have stayed. I swear it."

"Yes, you were calling his name from the top of the stairs. I remember."

"I was looking for him, Felicity. I swear."

"Marry me, Oliver?" She said through her tears.

He couldn't be hearing right. "What? Am I dreaming? You're asking me to marry you? NOW of all times?"

"I mean it. Not today, of course, but later, when I can fit back into my wedding dress, and Ben can be there too. I love you, Oliver. Come here."

"You're not angry with me?"

"You're right this is a better or worse moment, and we've been through a lot lately. I knew you've been acting like you had a secret, but Ben has taken up so much of my time that I'd ignored it. Oh, course, you blamed yourself since you seem hard wired like that, but it's not your fault, Oliver. Life happens and we survived, and I love you and you love us, me and Ben, and you just proved it to me. You're right you were hollering his name from the top of the stairs, when you didn't know what was real. I believe you would have raised him and loved him. Now I'm sure that you are in this relationship for better or worse, and there is truly an us. Right?"

He rushed to engulf her with his body, to pull her close. "Always! Yes, there's an us. And now there are three of us."

"Geez, but these hormones are killing me. I cry at everything. But, Oliver, the main reason I was crying was because you were being a real dad. Real dads and moms don't have all the answers but what they do is keep trying and love their children. I know you worry that something will take us away from you but tomorrow is uncertain and that's just the way it is. Now you'd better hold on because the roller coaster ride has started." A slight watery grin lit her face. "But would you hold me? I need your arms around me to survive this ride."

He couldn't stop his smile as he said, "I'll hold you every chance I get, every hour, every second, and I'm thankful, grateful for you and for my gift, for my son, and for you, Felicity."

Gently, he pulled her close and the baby monitor lit up as Ben whimpered, and Felicity groaned and said, "Does this child ever sleep? Like father like son."

"Felicity, do you want to pay a game?" He pulled back and truly grinned at her.

"A game?"

"It's called tag I'm it. I'm ready to help you by being a member of your tag team, if you're ready to show me how to use a bottle warmer?"

"If you're ready to learn how to feed him? I pumped milk earlier."

Oh, how her smile lit up his world, his entire world.

"And I'm thinking that you're right I need to help you more. We need to do this parenting thing together. I've noted Ben's a lot of work right now, and if we want to raise him right, we have to do this together, you and me. And we both know I have problems sleeping and there's no reason you couldn't sleep and let me get up and feed him."

"I would love to make the four o'clock feeding your turn. But you have to change his diaper too. Don't let Ben stay wet or poopy, or he'll get diaper rash."

"If Dig can change Sara, then I can learn to change Ben. I've survived a lot worse than baby poop. Come on, Felicity, teach me, help me become a good dad. Geez, I swear Ben's just kicked his screaming up a notch?"

Smiling, he took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

She grinned broadly and said, "You've haven't hear anything yet. Look out, Ben, here comes team daddy and mommy."

He laughed and she did too as he said, "Yeah, we're partners in parenthood."

"Until death do us part! Though as loud as your son is yelling it may be until deaf do us part." And she covered her ears as Ben shrieked, and she smiled her light filled smile at him with the words, "Come on, I can't believe he's hungry this soon. Oh, how he's growing."

"Does this child have any patience?"

"Not yet it seems. Reminds me of his father." She batted her eyes at him and tilted her blonde head, with a grin.

"Come on let's go feed him before he explodes. He sounds really mad." He reached out his hand and she took his hand as he said quietly, "You just don't understand how much I love you, Felicity. I'm glad you're here with me."

"Ditto, Oliver, now and always for as many days as we get. Now come on let's ride life's ride. Our son's calling, loudly. And if I'm lucky he's pooped and just think you can change him."

And once again, she made him smile against his will and the joy in his heart made him almost light headed, and with her beside him, he was beyond happy and ready to embrace his future, this thing called fatherhood, yellow or green colored poop and all.

#####OQ#####

Not the end but the beginning of our wonderful Olicity. But the end of this story.

Shh . . . Ben is sleeping.

#####OQ#####

I hope you enjoyed this short story. I know I have.

As always thanks for the read. Now off to write an update to the "Normal" adventure.

Question did you love this story or hate it? Did I make you laugh or cry? Did I make you think? I hope I have, so please if you have time, drop me a line.


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